


Righting Wrongs

by Cyberfairie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Description of Injuries, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberfairie/pseuds/Cyberfairie
Summary: Bull learned everything he needed to know about the vampires of Tevinter in Seheron.  Born of magical bloodlines, they move extremely fast, are almost impossible to kill, and have no qualms about keeping slaves to feed their own thirst.None of that would have mattered to the Qunari if the Vint’s had just stayed on their own side of the Nocen Sea.  But when the two sides clashed in Seheron, the Qunari learned one more important fact...the blood of a Qunari shifter made a vampire impervious to the sun’s harmful rays.  The effect faded over time, making Qunari slaves the most sought after food source for the vampires.After losing his entire pack, The Iron Bull was reassigned to the south.  Believing he would be a lone wolf for the rest of his life he was surprised to find himself gathering a new pack that would grow to include the leader of the Inquisition.The problems began when the Inquisitor insisted upon bringing a vampire into her inner circle.  Vowing to keep an eye on the vamp, Bull was surprised when Dorian proved to be unlike any vamp Bull had ever met.  Begrudging admiration blossomed into reluctant intrigue as Bull began to accept that perhaps Dorian was more than just a vampire.





	1. Inauspicious Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say thanks as always to the wonderful [Dichotomous Dragon](http://dichotomous-dragon.tumblr.com/) for the betaing and the hand-holding and the addition of so many wonderful commas...  
> Not only that but she also created her own piece of gorgeous art for me which can be seen in Chapter 4. Thank you so much for taking the time to bring Dorian and Bull to life for me, Dee...you are seriously the best and I absolutely love wolf!Bull.
> 
> I also want to thank [Metalarmedhobbit](http://metalarmedhobbit.tumblr.com/) for the amazing art seen in chapter 11.
> 
> Additionally I have added notes to the chapter that includes the suicide attempt as well as the graphic description of injuries for those who might wish to skip it.

Bull snarled when the cathedral door swung open, his body shifting to put himself between the Boss and the dark interior as his senses were assaulted for the second time in as many hours by the distinctive scent of a mature vampire.  

“Bull?”  The Boss queried even as Bull’s inner wolf perked up, it’s attention caught by the thick, rich scent, reminiscent of the forest after a rainstorm, that washed over him.  The smell was far more pleasing than Alexius’s cloying floral scent had been, pleasant enough that Bull found himself drawing in another deep breath before he could remind himself that no matter how appealing the scent, it belonged to a cold blooded killer.

Feeling his canines itching to descend, Bull cautiously stepped into the darkened cathedral only to come to a sudden stop at the vision before him.  The vampire was the imbodiment of fluid grace as he battled two of the big fucking shades, the wash of his magic making Bull’s skin crawl even as his staff blade flashed crimson in the light cast by the stained glass window.  Taller than an average human, the vampire had no difficulty spinning around behind one of the shades, his blade slicing across the creature’s throat while the second one was enveloped in a fireball, it’s tortured screams drawing a feral grin to the vampire’s lips.

Bull watched as the vampire’s eyes darted around the room, looking for another foe to vanquish, only to land on Bull and widen, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his staff tighter.  The vampire’s grin morphed into a low hiss as the man took a step towards Bull.

Eyes locked on the vamp’s fangs, Bull took an instinctive step forward of his own, unaware that he was growling until the Boss smacked him on the arm as she slid past him and hissed, “Stop it, Bull.”

The vampire’s attention shifted from Bull to the Inquisitor and back again, before finally dismissing Bull with a little roll of his eyes and turning exclusively towards the Boss, his expression settling into a far more congenial grin.  “Good!  You’re finally here!  Now help me close this, would you?”

The Boss chuckled softly and raised her hand to close the rift, taking a step forward as she did only to find her other arm held tight in Bull’s grip.  “Watch yourself, Boss, he’s a vampire.”

“That what’s got your smalls wadded in a ball, Tiny?” Varric drawled, moving up next to Bull so he could take in the vampire himself.  Letting loose a low whistle Varric nudged Bull’s side.  “Gotta admit I thought he’d be a little more frightening to look at.”

“Hard to draw victims in if you actually look the part of a blood-thirsty beast,” Bull snorted.  “Doesn’t mean he couldn’t tear out your throat before you got your finger on Bianca’s trigger if he wanted to.”

“I’ll have you know no one has ever accused me of being slow on the trigger,” Varric scoffed, making the vampire laugh brightly.

“Delightful friends you have, Herald.”

“They’re assholes,” the Boss drawled, her hand dropping the moment the rift shut as though it had never existed.  Shaking Bull’s hand off her arm she stepped closer to the vamp.  “But they’re mine.  You however, seem to have me at a disadvantage.  I wasn’t aware there was another vampire in Redcliffe.”

“Yes, well I wouldn’t mind keeping it that way.  But I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I?  Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.  How do you do?”

Bull’s wolf bristled when the Boss reached for the vamp’s offered hand.  “Careful, Boss.  The pretty ones are always the worst.”

Bull cringed.  Shit.  Why did he say that?  Not that it was a lie, like he’d told Varric most vampires tended to be gorgeous by nature, but fuck, ‘pretty?’  That was a term better reserved for a friendly tavern wench than the cold-blooded killer standing before him.

“Suspicious friends you have here,” the ‘Vint drawled with a flash of his fangs, his words directed towards the Boss even though his eyes never left Bull.  “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable.  As I’m sure you can imagine.”

Bull snorted.  “And we’re supposed to believe that you’re going to turn on your mentor, one of your own kind, out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Bull…” the Boss hissed, only to have Dorian pat her hand soothingly.

“No, no, it’s quite alright, Herald.  Can’t blame him for doubting, wolves are such skittish creatures by nature,” Dorian reassured her, ignoring Bull’s annoyed growl to further explain.  “For the record, my kind or not, Alexius is tampering with magic that threatens us all.  It is for that reason I am offering my services to your Inquisition.”

“We don’t need…” Bull started only to have the Boss speak over him.

“The Inquisition appreciates any assistance you can provide.”

Another toothy grin split the vamp’s face.  “Wonderful.  I really must go for now.  It wouldn’t do for Alexius to sense me near and with the rift closed I fear I have overstayed my welcome...but I assure you when you have need of me, I will be there.”

With flourish of his cloak the vampire was gone leaving Varric and the Boss staring at the spot he had occupied only moments earlier.  It was the Boss who broke the silence.  “So, we seem to have acquired a vampire.”

Bull snorted and shook his head.  “Fuck, Boss.  You don’t simply ‘acquire’ a vamp.  Best you can hope for if you’re lucky is that you can amuse one long enough that it tires of you and leaves to find more interesting prey.”

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Varric chuckled darkly, though Bull noticed that the rogue kept Bianca at the ready until they were well clear of Redcliffe.

Bull’s next meeting with the vampire wasn’t until after the Boss went to solicit the mages for help instead of the Templars.  Not like that decision really surprised him, he’d certainly spent enough time around the Boss to know that she wasn’t a fan of the Chantry or their Templars, though he knew Cullen had done his best to convince her to give them a chance.

What _had_ surprised him though was getting back from a supply run to Crestwood only to find out that the Boss had taken off for said meeting with Varric, Solas and _Dorian Pavus_ in tow.  Even more surprising, was the group of them returning to Haven almost two weeks later…Pavus riding in alongside the Boss and the pair of them looking as worn and tired as if they’d been gone three times that long.

When the Boss raised a tired hand in his direction as they walked past Bull’s tent after handing off their horses, Bull grinned and raised his own in reply, remaining seated until they got far enough ahead that they weren’t likely to notice him to follow.

Even though his vision might be shit now that he was down to one eye, Bull’s hearing was every bit as sharp as his wolf’s, allowing him to listen closely while keeping his head down, hands in his pockets as he ambled along behind the pair.

“…let you know when Alexius is settled,” the Boss said, startling a dark burst of laughter from Dorian.

“Why in Andraste’s blessed ass would you want to do that?”

“Dorian,” the Boss huffed, leaning in to nudge Pavus’ arm with her shoulder.

Bull’s muscles tightened, his eye focused on just how close the Boss’s exposed neck was to the vampire’s mouth.  Close enough that if the man took exception to the Boss’s teasing he could kill her before Bull could hope to save her.

For a minute Bull thought the man just might, Pavus’ shoulders squaring and his spine straightening before he relaxed slightly and shook his head, nudging the Boss back in the ribs.  “Need I remind you that he tried to kill us?  Not just you…which at the moment I could almost understand…”

“Hey!”

“…but _me_.  And because of him Felix…” Pavus fell silent for a few steps before shaking his head again.  “No, I assure you, Evelyn, I have no desire to see my former mentor again.”

Bull was forced to stop suddenly and take cover behind a tent when the Boss spun on her heel unexpectedly and threw both arms around Pavus’ neck, hugging him tight as she went up on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear too softly for even Bull to catch.  Whatever it was drained the last of the tension from the vamp’s shoulders, leaving him seeming far too tired and _human_ for Bull’s liking.

“Release her at once!” Cullen’s voice boomed out across camp, concern lacing his command.  It would seem that Bull wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust Dorian Pavus.

Not that concern was going to save the man judging by the scowl on the Boss’s face as she slowly released Dorian and spun to face the Commander.  “For your information it was I who embraced him.  Not, of course, that it’s any of your concern.”

“Not my concern?” Cullen parroted incredulously.  “The man is a vam…”

“Is he really?” The Boss growled, closing the distance between Cullen and herself in only a few agitated strides.  “I’ve only been traveling with him for the better part of two weeks, fought back to back with him too many times to count in a future I’d prefer to forget but egads! I had no clue.  What _would_ I do without you?”

Cullen’s shoulders slumped.  “Forgive me, Herald.  I just…”

Bull could only imagine the look on the Boss’s face, but whatever it was had Cullen shutting up like a disobedient schoolboy.  The smile she gave Pavus when she turned back around was nothing but accommodating.  “I have matters I should discuss with my advisors, but perhaps you would join me for dinner later, once you have rested?”

“I should enjoy that very much, Evelyn,” Pavus practically cooed, taking one of the Boss’s hand and dropping a kiss to her knuckles that had her laughing brightly.

“You, sir, are a menace,” the Boss chuckled, squeezing his hand before releasing it.  “I trust you can find your cabin from here?”

“As it is in sight I believe I can refrain from getting lost,” Dorian grinned, waiting until the Evelyn and Cullen disappeared into the chantry before turning in Bull’s direction.  “You might as well stop skulking, dog.”

 _Shit._  Sighing heavily, Bull stepped out from behind the tent and tried not to look as surprised as he felt at being noticed.  “I was just…”

“Following me to make sure I didn’t have nefarious plans for the Herald,” Pavus interrupted, “plans that could only be carried out in broad daylight in the middle of camp?”

Bull snarled, not bothering to hide the hint of fang that threatened.  They weren’t friends and Bull didn’t appreciate the vamp’s sense of humor.  “You may have the Boss fooled, Pavus, but I know what you are.  Spent too much time on Seheron to fall for that charismatic bullshit.”

The grin slid off Pavus’ face.  “Ah, that explains a lot actually.  I’m not certain one could spend any length of time on that damned island and not escape hating everyone.”

Bull chuffed out a bitter laugh.  “Oh, I don’t hate everyone, just bloodsucking mages who value their own hide over anyone else’s.”

Pavus’ silver eyes narrowed, anger flitting across his features for only a moment before they settled once more into studied indifference.  “You have a delightful way with words…for a dog,” Pavus drawled, ignoring Bull’s low warning growl to continue, “Though for the record, I get my blood bottled and from voluntary sources only.”

“Yeah, right, like I haven’t heard that before,” Bull snorted.  “Lucky for you slaves don’t have to give consent.”

Bull stiffened as he watched the blood drain from Pavus’s face, the vampire’s eyes staring past Bull as though he no longer existed.  Then, with a shake of his head, the man was back and scowling up at Bull.  “Actually my contact is a delightful Tal-Vashoth fellow,” Dorian whispered, his voice just on the unsteady side of certain.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get out of the sun.”

The vamp was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Bull standing alone in front of the chantry trying to figure out just where Pavus had gone for those few seconds…and why the fuck it mattered.


	2. Good Business

Dorian blew through the door to his cabin and slammed it shut behind him hard enough to make the entire building shake.  “Of all the obnoxious, insufferable, opinionated bastards I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,” he growled into the empty room, his long strides eating up what little bit of floor there was before turning to head back the opposite direction.  “Didn’t even bother to ask…just assumed.  And they consider _us_ horrendous creatures.  At least _I_ would have given _him_ the benefit of the doubt, even if he did smell like wet fucking dog.  But no, he sees a vampire and therefore I must be bleeding some poor bastard on a nightly basis…him and his ‘lucky you slaves don’t’…oh…kaffas.”

That last word was little more than a sigh, escaping when Dorian dropped down onto the one chair in the room, his mind lost in a haze of memories.

 

_He had been surprised when his father summoned him.  In the almost two months since Halward had sent his thugs to drag Dorian back to the family estate his father had chosen to practically ignore Dorian’s existence, only acknowledging him during family dinners when Dorian would make a rare comment.  Dorian was half convinced that even those responses were less about Halward being polite and more about Mother covertly kicking him beneath the table._

_Still, Father didn’t need words to express his disappoint with every aspect of Dorian’s life, the fact that he had sent_ humans _after Dorian this last time said enough.  In Father’s eyes there was no need to send fellow mages because Dorian was weak and a failure at everything the Pavus line stood for.  And really, in the end that was all that mattered to Halward Pavus, that the Pavus line would continue for another generation even if Dorian was forced to live a lie in order to make that happen._

_Sighing heavily, Dorian paused for a moment outside the study door.  This was it.  Father had obviously grown tired of the stalemate between them and was no doubt preparing to demand that Dorian finally make good on the childhood betrothal promise to the Everens’ girl.  Venhedis, just the thought of Octavia was enough to make Dorian wish he’d grabbed the rest of the bottle of Vint-1 from dinner._

_No, he was better sober for this fight, he told himself with a slight shake of his head.  There was little doubt that it would be a fight, one for Dorian’s soul as much for his future since he had little doubt that bending to Father’s will would slowly kill the man he was, leaving little but a breathing husk.  Drawing in a deep breath, Dorian stiffened his spine and resolutely knocked on the door…_

 

“Fasta vass,” Dorian growled, pulled from his thoughts when he shifted on his chair and ended up with a splinter lodged in his thigh.  Springing up, he plucked the piece of wood from his skin and spun, scowling at the chair only to realize that calling the monstrosity such was being exceedingly generous.  Indeed, the wood was only roughly hewn, the legs level but the back brace was most definitely an inch or so taller on one side as though it had been cobbled together in seconds rather than actually crafted.

His attention drifted from the chair to the table, then further into the room to the row of cots that occupied the far side of the cabin.  Fasta vass, the entire structure looked like it had been erected by a five year old left alone with the kindling.  Dorian wondered briefly what Father would think to see him now, the spoiled heir of House Pavus living in a room cobbled together by necessity in the middle of a war.

The small part of Dorian that still wanted to be a good son hoped that Father would be pleased with his decisions, but in actuality he knew it was far more likely that he would just see Dorian’s actions as one more act of defiance.  Siding against his own people, pledging to fight side by side with a Qunari of all people.

 _Oh, I don’t hate everyone, just bloodsucking mages who value their own hide over anyone else’s._  Dorian scowled as the Qunari’s words echoed through his brain again and vowed to himself that he would prove the huge man wrong.  After all, if there was anything Father had taught him it was how to defy people’s expectations.

It didn’t take Dorian long to learn that The Iron Bull’s feelings about vampires were the rule rather than the exception among the people of Haven.  Kaffas, for a group of people who had probably never met a vampire before Dorian it seemed that everyone had some tidbit of information they were determined to share.  Flissa, for instance, had been amazed when Dorian had ordered a glass of barely tolerable wine because he was supposed to exist solely upon the blood of his victims.  Then there was Henri, one of the stable hands, who insisted that Dorian had no need of a mount as he should be able to turn into a _bat_ and fly where he wanted to go.

But Dorian’s favorite was courtesy of Bernard, one of Commander Cullen’s men, who made certain to inform Dorian that the Tevinter habit of bathing in the blood of infants would not be acceptable in Haven.  Fasta vass, he’d been tempted to gut the man on principle alone.

It was because of _that_ incident that when Commander Cullen had first suggested Dorian approach one of the Templars who had survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes by virtue of being too new to the order to attend, Dorian had soundly refused.  Dorian wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Cullen’s mellowing towards Dorian being a vampire was in anyway indicative of the way his fellow Templars would behave.  Of course then Evelyn had seconded the notion, appealing to Dorian’s vanity by implying that allowing the Templars to train with an actual vampire might save lives and Dorian had found himself reluctantly revising his decision.

Now, Dorian was beginning to think that he might owe both Evelyn and the Commander an apology.  Because from the moment he approached Lysette, he found someone who was not only familiar with his people’s history, due in part to the historical significance of the Tevinter Imperium’s founding of her hometown of Denerim.  That she had greeted him as ‘Altus’ rather than the dreaded ‘Magister’ had gone a long way to soothing Dorian’s unease, and the fact that she was currently expounding upon _actual_ differences between vampire mages and their human counterparts was drawing a slight smile to his face.

“…which is why I think it would be beneficial for the troops to see you move at full speed, most of them think it’s just a standard fade step and they have no idea how much more powerful your spell is,” Lysette assured him with a little shake of her head.

“I can certainly do that, perhaps if you had a couple of scouts on the hill overlooking the lake.  I could start by your side, go relieve them of a trinket of some sort and return,” Dorian offered.  “While I am loathe to invite harm to myself, a demonstration of vampire healing abilities should probably be given.  Something small, a knife wound perhaps.”

Lysette nodded, thoughtfully.  “That would be very helpful.  I’m afraid that most of the men do not believe me when I say that vampires can heal without potions or magic.  The thought of having to decapitate their enemy is, quite frankly, rather abhorrent.”

“Yes, well I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that demonstration,” Dorian snorted with a slight shake of his head.  “Still, I’ll be happy to reinforce the fact that the only dead vampire is a headless one if you think it will help.”

Lysette nodded, casting an eye out over the recruits who were training in the field near the tents.  “I worry that many of them will fall before they truly understand.”

Dorian found himself reaching out to clasp his hand around Lysette’s shoulder.  “Such is the way of war, my dear.  But we will do what we can to save those who will listen.”

“Yes, Altus,” Lysette responded with a sharp nod.  “Would three days from now be suitable for you?  I have a squad leaving just after that and I would like them to hear what you have to say.”

Dorian quickly agreed, bidding the woman a pleasant day as he turned to head back through the gate, his mood both lighter for spending time with someone who believed his worth and heavier for the fact that currently his value lay in military knowledge rather than historical.  Still, it was a start.  If even half the men listened to what he and Lysette had to say it would be enough to start counteracting the rumors and superstitions about his people.

“You really want to help those men?  Show them what you are underneath that civil exterior.”

Dorian froze, foot on the bottom step as The Iron Bull’s voice rang out.  Turning, he found the man sitting on a stool only a few feet away, a scowl on the Qunari’s lips.  “What do you know about who I am?”

The Iron Bull snorted, then rose, his words as carefully uttered as the steps he took towards Dorian.  “You want to save lives, you show them how your kind feeds off the fallen.  How it’s kinder to kill an injured pack mate than let him become the fuel for the blood magic that will kill the rest of the pack.”

“Not all vampires resort to blood magic,” Dorian hissed, having to tip his head back to meet The Iron Bull’s gaze.

“That what they teach you in those fancy schools you attended?” Bull chuffed, shaking his head dismissively.  “Cause I gotta tell you, I spent the better part of ten years in Seheron and not once did I encounter into a vamp that _wouldn’t_ resort to it when faced with his own death.”

 _There are worse things than death._  Dorian barely bit back the words, unwilling to give the were the satisfaction of knowing his barb had struck true.  “You’ll forgive me if I say I hope to never be in the position to prove you wrong,” Dorian whispered.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have training plans to consider.”

 

Dorian rocked back as the smite hit him center chest.  Even though he’d been expecting it, the rapid draining of his mana was so discomforting it made his heart begin to race, his breath catching for a moment before he could remember he required air in his lungs.  With a shake of his head he spun, a sword slicing through the space he’d occupied only moments before.  Snarling, he spun his staff, digging deep into what was left of his mana pool to push a little force magic towards his opponent while directing a controlled ice bolt towards his foe’s boots, freezing them together and sending the man crashing to the ground.

The sound of laughter interspersed with both cheers and jeers echoed across the valley as Dorian dropped his staff to the ground and held out a hand to his opponent.

“Damn it, vamp, I thought I had you that time,” Martine, Lysette’s second in command, grumbled as he allowed Dorian to haul him to his feet, the ice melting away in time for him to catch his balance.

“It was a good attempt,” Dorian grinned, slapping the man on the shoulder with his free hand before raising his voice and continuing, “Lesson number four…unless you’re certain the mage you’re fighting isn’t a vampire don’t trust smite to take them out of the battle.  Against a vampire smite is only going to gain you a few seconds and cost them some of their mana, silence will get you a minute if you’re lucky before our systems repair themselves.”

“So what do we do if those don’t work?”

Dorian was pleased to hear the question asked.  Catching Lysette’s eye he watched her nod approvingly at her team.  The first time he’d done this the former Templars had been so shocked at the speed with which Dorian moved and with his recovery time that they hadn’t gotten to the point of wanting to know how to beat him.  Which was why this second training session had been called, both he and Lysette hoping that the men would turn their attention towards the practical matters of survival.

Returning his attention to the man who’d voiced the question, Dorian shrugged.  “You attack fast.”

A second round of laughter was cut off suddenly when Dorian spun in a circle and pointed at one of the smallest soldiers, a human female.  “You’re next.”

“Me, Messere?” the woman squeaked, looking over her shoulder at her companions as though she must have misunderstood.

Dorian nodded and took several backward steps to the center of the training area, watching as the woman sighed then resolutely followed him, her fingers immediately moving to finger the set of throwing daggers that sat at her hip.  “Ready?”

The woman nodded and in the blink of an eye, disappeared.  Dropping and rolling to the side, Dorian barely evaded the attack that came from behind him, the woman blinking into sight only long enough to slash at where he’d been before disappearing again.  Casting an ice rune, Dorian struck out with his staff, swinging it in front of him as he circled only to gasp as a throwing knife embedded itself in his shoulder.

Plucking the offending bit of steel from his flesh, he tucked it into his belt rather than chance it ending up back in his attacker’s hand again then spun a second time, this time sending out a small force push that had his opponent dropping out of stealth as she fell to one knee.  Taking a step closer, Dorian barely had time to note the feral grin on the rogue’s face before he felt the silence, his magic stripped from him as she surged to her feet with a blade in each hand.  Left to mundane devices, Dorian spun his staff, the two blades meeting with a shriek of steel.

Driven two steps back, Dorian slashed out again, this time the tip of his staff blade catching the curved guard on one dagger as the rogue spun, the metal screaming before snapping.  Snarling, he tossed his staff and reached for the throwing blade he’d acquired, leaping back into the fray just as the first hints of his magic began to twist around him again.  Knocking the rogue to the ground, he laid the blade against her throat and snarled, “Yield?”

“Do you?” she hissed, the cold bite of her dagger threatening at his groin, a slow smile teasing at the corners of her mouth.

With a laugh, Dorian rolled off of her.  “I do, indeed.  Good job,” Dorian grinned, flipping her throwing knife over so he could hold the hilt out to her.  “I believe this is yours.”

“Keep it,” she shrugged, tucking her foot under Dorian’s discarded staff and flipping it up so she could catch it and hold it out to him.  “I think I ruined yours.”

Dorian shrugged.  “A small sacrifice to make.”

A gauntleted hand landed on Dorian’s uninjured shoulder, Lysette’s voice echoing in his ear.  “Go see Threnn, I’m sure she can replace it.”

Dorian scowled, the thought of having to approach the dour Inquisition quartermaster almost more daunting than trying to deal with a missing staff blade.  “I can make due.”

Lysette’s laugh was bright, her eyes twinkling as she whispered, “Yeah, Threnn inspires that kind of fear in most of us.”

“I am not _afraid_ of her,” Dorian huffed, heat rising on his cheeks when laughter rang out again.  Kaffas, now he supposed he really would have to approach the woman or he’d never hear the end of it.  “Fine, I will go see her.  Shall we pick this up again in a few days.”

Lysette grinned.  “What do you think men?  You want another chance to best the evil vampire?”

Dorian shook his head at the rousing chorus of ‘aye’s that echoed out.  He wasn’t certain he’d ever felt quite so much a part of something before, let alone been called evil in such a fond way.

He blamed that sense of camaraderie for the fact that he was now standing before the imposing quartermaster, Threnn’s lips set in a thin line as he started to explain why he needed a new staff blade only for her to cut him off almost immediately with a raised hand.

“Ain’t got any.”

Dorian frowned.  “I haven’t even told you what I need yet.”

“Don’t matter,” she spit out, her eyes narrowing.  “My supplies are for Inquisition soldiers only.”

“And what exactly do you think I am?”

This time she did spit, hitting a spot only an inch from Dorian’s boot.  “I know your kind vampire.  You can take your filthy blood money to Seggrit, but you ain’t getting anything from me.”

Dorian slammed his hand down on the table between them, not bothering to hide the hint of fang he knew flashed when he snarled at the woman.  “Fucking unreasonable…”

A low warning growl rumbled through the air, Dorian’s eyes immediately tracking to the tent behind Threnn and the were standing beside it.  Fucking wonderful.  He’d managed to avoid The Iron Bull for the better part of the last two weeks and he has to run into him _now_.  Kaffas, it wasn’t like he was actually going to harm the shrew.  Covering his fangs, Dorian scowled at The Iron Bull before turning his attention back to a now smirking Threnn.

“I would say it’s been a pleasure, but,” he drawled, giving the woman a short nod before heading towards where The Iron Bull stood.  He moved until he was almost past the were before whispering, “Don’t worry, I have no intention of attacking the woman no matter how insulting she gets.”

“Not the way it looked from here.”

“Yes, well that doesn’t surprise me.  You and our dear Quartermaster seem to share the same opinion on Tevinter mages.”

“Tevinter _vampires_ you mean, I have nothing against…”

“Yes, yes, you love everyone who isn’t me,” Dorian huffed, walking off without bothering to wait for a response.  Fasta vass, it was bad enough he’d engaged the were at all.  The Iron Bull was well-liked in Haven, if Dorian didn’t watch himself he might find himself becoming too much of a liability for Evelyn to continue to keep around.

Sighing softly, Dorian tried to ignore the feeling that he was still being watched, telling himself that if The Iron Bull wanted to waste his time following Dorian around there was little he could do about it.  Approaching Seggrit’s tables, Dorian was pleased to find several spell blades laid out, none of them in perfect condition but serviceable until he could get to Val Royeaux for a true replacement.

Reaching for the sharpest of the blades, Dorian snatched his hand back when the entire table was suddenly covered by a worn piece of leather.  “Sorry, closed for the day,” Seggrit muttered, his eyes not quite meeting Dorian’s.

“But certainly…”

“No, sorry.  Places to be, you understand,” Seggrit insisted, covering the rest of the table with a few other scraps of leather before stepping out from behind the tables.

“I have gold,” Dorian assured him, despite the fact none of the blades he’d seen should go for more than a few silver.

“Yeah, and any gold I take from you will be the last I earn in Haven,” Seggrit shrugged.  “Sorry, mate, but you aren’t good business.”

 _Yes, well that about said it all didn’t it?_  Dorian thought with a soft snort.  It would seem he wasn’t good business no matter where he went.

Shaking his head at his own maudlin thoughts, Dorian turned to head back up the stairs only to find The Iron Bull standing only a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his one silver eye pinning Dorian with a flinty stare.  “Kaffas, you needn’t behave as though I’m going to steal something,” Dorian snarled, stepping away from the covered tables.

“Didn’t say anything,” The Iron Bull shrugged, settling back against the half wall that ran behind him.

“Yes, well, you didn’t really have to now did you?” Dorian bit out, his own cheeks heating as he realized the were had most likely  heard his entire exchange with Seggrit.  “Certainly you must have better things to do with your time than follow me around.”

“It’s my time,” Bull drawled with another careless shrug.

Eyes narrowing, Dorian debated whether freezing the were’s ass to the wall beneath it would actually count as an aggressive act before deciding that it probably, unfortunately, would.  Settling for stomping past The Iron Bull instead, Dorian growled, “If you continue to insist on following me around I’ll have to see about getting Evelyn to buy you a leash.”


	3. Haven Falling

Dorian stumbled to a stop, looking up to see the last of Haven’s residents slogging up the mountain canyon just before Varric slammed into him from behind, almost sending him to his knees.

“Why’re you stopping, we’re almost there,” Varric panted, the snow almost hip-deep on the dwarf and wearing him out far faster than either Dorian or the Seeker even though he was following the path they carved out.

“Dorian?” the Seeker called out, pausing to turn and look at the pair.

“We have to go back,” Dorian found himself whispering.  It had been wrong to leave Evelyn.  Dorian knew they all felt it, only the need to follow her orders making them start up the mountain in the first place.

Dorian could have sworn the Seeker’s expression softened, but it was hard to tell through the driving snow.  “She ordered us to go.”

“I know, but I can’t…I have to go back,” Dorian countered, unable to explain the pull he felt towards the woman currently battling for her life…for all their lives.

The Seeker took a step back towards him, her gaze sliding past Dorian.  “Varric?”

“You say we go back, we go back, Seeker,” the dwarf stuttered, his skin beginning to take on a blue hue.

A couple more steps towards Dorian and the Seeker was close enough for him to read the conflict in her eyes.  He had a feeling that if it were just the two of them they’d already be headed back down the mountain but apparently she also shared his concern about Varric’s ability to keep up and he could hardly be left to push on by himself.

Then, just as the Seeker opened her mouth to speak, the silent night was split by a loud crack and the three watched in awe and horror as the avalanche they’d been expecting shook the mountaintop opposite them, a wall of snow and snapped trees racing down the hillside until it slammed into Haven, engulfing the town in a plume of white.

The three watched, silent, as the cloud of snow settled leaving Haven buried beneath a literal mountain of snow.  It was the Seeker who finally broke the silence, “It is done.”

“No, she can’t be gone,” Dorian whispered, his eyes darting from the devastation behind them to the line of torchlight disappearing through the pass before them.  “The two of you go, tell Cullen what we saw.  I have to find her, to see if…”

No, he would not say the words.  If they went unsaid they weren’t true.  Without another word Dorian tapped into his mana, whispering the words to activate his fade step.

It was faster this way, moving so quickly he practically flew over the snow as opposed to trudging through it and still he couldn’t find her.  Back and forth across the expanse of white snow broken here and there by shards of pine trees that had been torn from the ground as the snow roared its path down the mountain.  It was almost impossible to tell where Haven had been, not even the lake was visible anymore, but Dorian began to focus his efforts at the forest edge nearest where the catapult had been.

He searched for so long he began to lose hope and then, his fade step ended, dropping him into the snow except rather than hitting solid ground he continued to sink until the snow was over his head, his fingers digging frantically for purchase in the soft, white powder that just broke loose every time he clutched it.

He had a brief moment to actually contemplate what it would be like to die like this, buried and lost alongside the Herald, and then…he was falling through open space, a pile of snow barely breaking his fall before more snow piled on top of him.

“Dor…Dor…Dorian?”

Dorian shook his head, flinging melting snow in every direction as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light.  He had apparently fallen into a cave or a mining shaft of some sort.  Whatever it was, the area was large and cold and as impossible as it seemed the Herald was huddled in one corner of it, her face almost as pale as the snow that surrounded them.  “Evelyn?”

“Fan…fan…fancy meeting…yo…yo…you here,” she grinned, her lips almost blue.

Forcing a bit of fire to his hands, Dorian melted the snow around him so that he could get to her side, letting the fireball extinguish while retaining the warmth in his palms as he cupped them to the side of her face.  A low, contented moan fell from Evelyn’s lips as she pressed harder against him.  “Fuck, never thought I’d be warm again,” she groaned.

“Yes, well, quite a place you’ve got here,” he muttered, his nose registering the thick scent of blood.  Fangs lengthening unbidden, he practically growled, “Where are you injured?”

“Wow, you sure know how to sweet-talk a gal,” Evelyn chided, her hands shifting to open her cloak, the heavy, iron rich smell of blood again assaulting Dorian’s senses.

Moving one of his own hands down to her side he pressed against her tunic, his hand coming away wet.  “Kaffas, Evelyn, we have to stop the bleeding.”

“Yes, well, I figured eventually I’d run out…”

“Lovely plan, as always,” Dorian muttered, pushing at her shoulder with his clean hand until she was stretched out on the frozen ground.  Moving aside her tunic, he winced to see the wound was caused by a long, deep slash that curled from a few inches below her breast down across her abdomen almost all the way to her opposing hip.  “Fasta vass, you’re lucky to still be alive.”

“Not sure that’s going to be a problem much longer,” she whispered weakly, her skin paling even further as Dorian pressed at the edges of the wound.

“Don’t say that,” Dorian hissed, his mind circling around the few healing spells he knew, knowing they wouldn’t be enough but still needing to try.  Grabbing a fist full of snow he packed it into the wound, ignoring Evelyn’s soft cry of pain before melting it in an attempt to flush out the ravaged skin.  When he felt reasonably certain the wound was clean he set to knitting the skin back together, intent only on stopping the worst of the bleeding.

By the time Dorian felt comfortable enough with his job to look up at Evie’s face he found that she had passed out, whether from blood loss or pain he wasn’t certain.  Laying two fingers against her throat, he was thankful to still feel her heart beating, though the motion seemed sluggish and weak.  Sitting back on his haunches, he dragged a tired hand over his face as he tried to decide their next course of action.

He could, of course, carry her, but he couldn’t be certain her wounds wouldn’t just open back up and they’d be right back where they started.  He could try to start a fire and leave her here while he went to find help, but he doubted any fire he could start would last long enough to get to the Inquisition’s camp and back.  Which left him with only one decision, one he would not make for her.

With a resigned sigh, he knelt by Evelyn’s side again, reaching out to cup her cheek in his palm before slapping at it gently.  “Evelyn, Evie, I need you to wake up…come on, Herald, no sleeping on the job.”

When he got no response, he took both shoulders in his hands and shook her as hard as he dared considering her still healing wounds.  “Evelyn Louise Trevelyan, you wake up right this minute damn you.”

She came to with a scowl, her green eyes barely opening as she hissed, “Never use my middle name.”

Dorian chuckled in relief.  “Whatever you say my dear.”

Her attention shifted from Dorian to look around the room slowly before returning to him.  “So, still here I see.”

“Yes, well, it’s such a lovely pit,” Dorian drawled, the hint of a smirk tilting his lips before he sobered.  “I’ve got the bleeding stopped for now, but you’ve lost so much blood I doubt you could walk right now.  I fear if I carry you your wounds will just reopen.”

Her brows knit as she considered his words, her hand coming up to press against his chest weakly.  “Then you go, get help.”

“You’ll be frozen solid before I could get back,” Dorian argued with a shake of his head.  “But there is something…”

“Whatever you think best,” she whispered, her hand falling away from him as her eyes drifted shut.

“No…no, damn it, I need your permission,” Dorian howled, shaking her shoulders again but getting no further response.

Swiping his hand over his face again he growled softly.  Technically he supposed her words could be taken as consent.  He was unlikely to get anything clearer from her and if he didn’t they would both likely freeze to death.  Fasta vass, if she’d only remained conscious a few moments longer…

Fine, he would do what needed to be done and deal with the fallout when it happened.  Grasping her hand he raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles before turning it over and biting at the soft flesh of her wrist.

Thick.  Rich.  Hot.  Fresh.  Dorian’s eyes rolled back in his head as the first drop of blood hit his tongue, the first blood he’d consumed directly from a donor in years and it was so much better than he remembered.  Unwilling to allow him to enjoy this moment, his mind almost immediately shifted to why he didn’t drink from the source anymore and he couldn’t pull away fast enough, thankful that a taste was all he needed to form the link between them.  Just enough to get the numbing agent from his fangs into her system so her body wouldn’t refuse his blood.

Habit, long ingrained, had him licking at the wound in addition to pushing a small healing spell to the spot so that by the time he raised his head her skin showed only two small raised bumps, a temporary response to his numbing agent that would disappear within a few days.

Shifting, Dorian moved until he could cradle Evelyn’s head in his lap before raising his own wrist to his lips and tearing at his skin, wincing at the pain as his fangs tore roughly rather than puncturing neat holes.  Cupping Evie’s chin with his good hand, he pulled open her mouth and allowed his blood to drain into it, fingers shifting from her chin to her throat to encourage her to swallow.

With his own rapid healing abilities he had to repeat his actions three times to get enough blood into Evelyn that her skin lost its translucent hue.  By the fourth time he tore open his veins she had begun to shift slowly beneath him, her tongue darting out to lick at a stray drop of blood that landed on her lips.  This time when his wound sealed he left it alone, stroking his hand through Evelyn’s hair until her tired eyes opened and focused on him.

“Dorian?” Evelyn queried, her voice already sounding far stronger than she had at any point since he’d found her.  “What happened?  I feel…better but why?”

Dorian winced, knowing he had to tell her but not at all certain he was ready for her response when he did.

“Dorian…”  Concern laced the one word as Evelyn struggled to sit up and face him, her thumb darting to the corner of her lip to wipe away a bit of drool only to come back red.  “Dorian, what did you do?”

He heard the panic incipient in her voice.  Hanging his head he whispered, “You did say to do what I felt best.”

“And that was…”

“I…shared my blood with you,” Dorian admitted, not daring to meet her eyes when he saw her entire body stiffen before him.  “It won’t change you…that’s a rumor.  I can’t change anyone, but it will give you my immunities for a time…aid in your healing, in your body’s recovery rate.  I couldn’t think of anything…”

He broke off, unaware of the fact he’d been wringing his hands together until Evie’s small hand laid gently over his.  “Dorian, it’s alright.”

“No, no it’s really not.  I would never do something like that without your consent but you told me to do what was best... You had lost so much blood and people won’t understand, they’ll think I have you in my thrall and…”

“Dorian,” Evelyn’s voice was stronger, her grip on his hands firmer.  “Dorian, look at me.”

He found himself incapable of ignoring her command, his eyes flaring in surprise at the understanding he read in her emerald eyes.  “I fully expected to die in this cave, do you really think I care about what someone thinks about how you saved me?  Fuck, do you really think it’s anyone’s business in the first place?”

“There will be…”

Her laughter was bright and clear.  “Please, there has been nothing but talk about me since I walked out of the Fade.  At least this time some of it might be true.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Dorian grinned, pulling away from her grasp so that he could push to his feet and hold out a hand to her.  “Think you’re up to getting out of here?”

“Why, Dorian, I thought you’d never ask,” Evelyn chuckled, accepting his hand and getting to her feet with only a slight wince.  Bending her knees, she stretched gently, her smile broadening.  “Damn, Dorian, you should bottle that stuff, it’s better than a healing potion.”

Dorian was surprised to find himself blushing.  “Yes, about that…”

She had closed the distance between them before Dorian could think to object, her lips pressing firmly against his cheek as she whispered, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Sighing softly in relief, he shook his head as she dropped back down onto her heels and turned towards the tunnel on opposite side of the room, the tunnel Dorian doubted she could have seen before he shared his blood with her.  With a little grin of his own he waved her forward, “Shall we?”

 

By the time they had made it back to the same spot on the mountain where Dorian had turned back earlier any sense of levity had been drained from them by the non-stop howling of the wind and the snow that now reached mid-thigh on him, well over Evelyn’s hips as she struggled to follow along behind him.  He paused mid-step when he felt her hand tugging on his own.

“How much further?” Evelyn screamed, her words barely reaching Dorian.

Turning towards her he tilted his head down to whisper against her ear, “They were at the top of the ridgeline when I turned back, I’m not certain how much farther they went.”

He felt her nod, her skin like ice against him and as he had done already twice since they stepped out of the cave, he tore at his veins and guided her head towards his wrist, pleased when she lapped at the blood dutifully this time instead of grimacing as she had the last couple of times.  He understood her distaste but was honestly, far too tired to argue with her again.

Waiting until she raised her head, her gloved hand wiping over her mouth, he asked, “Better?”

Again she just nodded, but Dorian could already see the color returning to her cheeks and he gave a sharp nod of his own before reaching for her hand and setting off once more.  It took them far longer than it should have to reach the ridgeline, Dorian’s shoulders slumping when he saw no sign of camp on the other side.  Not expecting the stop, Evie slammed into the back of him, so close he felt the shiver that coursed through her now that they were stopped and he cringed, not certain that he could afford to give her anymore blood and still be able to walk.

“Do you see them?” Evelyn asked, her breath hot against his back.

“Not much further now,” Dorian lied, squaring his shoulders and beginning to walk again.

 

Dorian couldn’t feel his feet anymore, all of his attention going to making certain Evelyn’s hand remained tightly grasped in his own.  They stumbled more now and at least half of the times they ended up in the snow because of his own numb limbs rather than hers.  He wasn’t certain how far they’d come but he had a feeling the next time they went down they wouldn’t be getting back up so he tried his best to make his body move in the direction he wanted it to.

One step then another, over and over until with a little dismayed cry, Evie’s hand slipped out of his.  The process of turning had his legs tangling and he crashed to the ground before her, her tired eyes meeting his as she reached out to him.  Dragging her closer he pulled her into his lap, rocking gently as he whispered for her to rest, they would start again in a minute.  Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, their emerald depths telling him she knew he was lying even as she nodded her acceptance.

Resting his cheek against the top of her head he stared at the snow, his brow knitting as a shadow took shape before him.  Was he hallucinating or had the wolves been following them all along, waiting for them to die before picking at their bones?

Holding Evie tighter, Dorian hissed at the shadows, too weak to be a true threat but not willing to die without a fight.  He was surprised when the shape moved closer, the shadow straightening and growing broader until a man stood before him.  The thought flashed through Dorian’s mind that he must truly be dying if the sight of a very naked Qunari could rouse no emotion in him aside from relief.

“I’ve got her,” The Iron Bull screamed out into the night, crouching until he could look Dorian in the eye.  “It’s alright, let me take her.”

Dorian hissed once more, instinct more than actual threat, before reluctantly releasing her.  Dorian doubted even The Iron Bull could carry them both, even if the Qunari was _willing_ to save him.  Still, Evie would survive; he’d done his job.

 

Dorian woke feeling almost painfully warm, his limbs tingling uncomfortably as he stretched out, the luxurious feeling of fur sliding across his skin.  Blinking open tired eyes he found himself in a tent, the flaps closed but enough light bleeding through the canvas to tell him it must be almost daybreak.

He had only a moment to appreciate the fact that he was alive before a frisson of fear coursed through him.  He had lost his blood supply in Haven and had given Evelyn far too much of his own blood to keep her going, there was no way he could move about in broad daylight right now without turning into a pile of dust.  Perhaps…

Before he could finish his thought the flap of the tent was opened and Evie’s head poked in, followed by the rest of her and then, hot on her heels, The Iron Bull.

“You’re awake,” Evie grinned, hurrying over to his side despite the low growl that filled the room.

Ignoring Bull for the moment, Dorian focused on looking over Evie.  “How are you, my dear?  No lasting injuries?”

“None, the healers were able to take care of everything,” she assured him, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek.  “They…”

Her words were interrupted by The Iron Bull charging across the room, his hand wrenching hers away from Dorian as he flipped her arm over and studied the two small marks on her wrist.  Dorian watched the were’s features twist in anger, his hand dropping Evie’s wrist in favor of fisting it in Dorian’s robes, yanking Dorian upright until they were face to face.

 _“What did you do to her?”_ Bull growled, his words thick as a result of his fangs descending, his breath hot against Dorian’s skin.

“I saved her life,” Dorian hissed back, refusing to be cowed by a dog.

“You _bit_ her.”

Evie’s hands were shoving at Bull’s shoulders, her eyes wide as she yelled, “Let him go, Bull.  Damn it, _let him go._ ”

If anything, her words only incensed the were, his hand twisting Dorian’s robes tighter.  “You _bound_ her to you?”

“Bound?  What?  Dorian?” Evie questioned, her hands pausing against Bull’s shoulder.

Dorian couldn’t resist rolling his eyes even though it gained him another snarl from Bull.  “I knew someone would say it, but I expected better from you.  Binding people to us in thrall is a myth, something to scare slaves with to enforce obedience.”

Bull’s brows knit together as he regarded Dorian thoughtfully, his nostrils flaring as he leaned closer and breathed in Dorian’s scent deeply before releasing him so suddenly Dorian found himself squeaking in surprise.  “You don’t smell like you’re lying.”

Dorian sighed and adjusted his robes.  “That’s because I’m not.  I wouldn’t have bitten her at all if I could have avoided it,” Dorian admitted, shifting his attention to Evelyn.  “You needed the immunities my blood could give you, but if I had just given you my blood, your system would have seen it as foreign and tried to fight it. The numbing agent in my fangs countered that, forcing your body to accept my blood.  By now I would gather it has been absorbed into your body the same as any nutrient and you’re back to your old self.”

“And what about you?” Bull grumbled, drawing Dorian’s attention back to him.  “How do you intend to _replenish_ the blood you gave the Boss?”

Dorian bristled at the implication, his hands clenched tightly so he didn’t give into the urge to singe one of the obnoxious Qunari’s horns off.  Drawing in a deep breath, Dorian struggled to keep his tone even as he spoke.  “I expect that I will travel at night until we have found someplace to settle then I’ll go about feeding in the same manner I always do…from blood I purchase from willing donors.”

Turning his attention to Evie he gave her a soft smile.  “I fear I shall have to remain indoors during daylight hours, until I can replenish my own blood I would be at risk of spontaneously combusting should I venture outside.”

Evelyn gasped, her fingers rising to her mouth.  “Dorian, no.  You can have mine…take…”

Dorian shook his head, not bothering to hide his displeasure at the thought.  “No, no, I assure you, there is a reason I drink from a glass rather than the source.  Besides, as delightful as your blood is, only Qunari blood can provide immunity to the sun’s rays.”

“Qun…” Evie whispered, spinning to face Bull, her hands curling around his forearms that were folded over his chest.  “Bull, that means you can…”

Bull snorted.  “Not even if Koslun himself appeared.”

“But _Bull_ …”

“No browbeating the man, Evie,” Dorian chided, more for her benefit than Bull’s.  “I promise I’ll be perfectly fine on my own, been doing it for years.”

“Won’t you be vulnerable though?  I don’t like the idea of leaving you defenseless.”

Dorian laughed and reached out to pat her hand.  “I assure you, even without an immunity to daylight, I am never defenseless.”

Evelyn looked uncertain.  “If you’re…”

Her words were interrupted by the tent flap opening, Cullen’s head popping into view.  “Herald, the advisors would like a word.”

Evie looked helplessly between the Commander and Dorian several times before nodding at Cullen.  “I’ll be right there,” she assured him before turning her attention back to Dorian.  Reaching out she curled one of her hands around his and squeezed.  “I’ll leave you supplies and a tent and before you know it we’ll have you back inside four walls.”

“Yes, well, perhaps those walls might even meet up,” Dorian chuckled, thinking of his cabin and how happy he’d be to be back inside that drafty hovel right now.

Dorian watched as Evelyn stood and made her way towards the door to the tent, The Iron Bull following behind her.  Dorian laid back against the furs and let his eyes drift shut as he blew out a nervous breath.  No matter what he’d told Evie he would be at risk until he could get more blood, the thin walls of the tent the only thing that stood between him and death.

“You may have her fooled, but I’ll be watching you,” The Iron Bull whispered, drawing Dorian’s eyes to the big man as he stood, paused just inside the tent.  “Don’t make me regret dragging your ass in out of the snow.”


	4. Expectations Challenged

_Why the fuck did I say that?_  Bull wondered, shaking his head slowly as he walked away from Pavus’ tent.  He hadn’t intended on ever letting the vampire know that Bull had been the one to carry him back to camp after the man passed out in the snow.  He had even gone so far as to swear Cullen and the Boss to silence as they were the only other witnesses to Bull’s moment of weakness and now, he’d gone and told the blasted vamp himself not even twelve hours later.

And fuck, the look Pavus got when Bull said it, like he’d fully expected Bull to just let him lay there in the snow and freeze to death.  And then there’d been that shit with the Boss, crap Bull hadn’t even known vamps could do.  Sure, he knew that most Arvaarad’s who had Bas Saarebas charges ended up bonding with them as a way to extend their own lives but he’d never known a vamp to willingly give up its blood before.  And there was no doubt Pavus had left himself vulnerable to ensure the Boss survived.

Bull stumbled to a stop as he realized the directions his thoughts were taking him.  Damn it, this was why vamps were so fucking dangerous.  Their survival instincts were strong and there was little doubt Pavus knew keeping the Boss breathing was his meal ticket, that was all.  When he started getting hungry Pavus would show his true nature, Bull just had to keep an eye on him until he did and then he’d convince the Boss she’d be better off with Pavus in the ground.

Mind made up, Bull made his way towards the edge of camp where the Chargers had set up a tent.  He’d fill Krem in on the day’s events then catch some sleep, it was going to be a long night.

 

Two days later, Bull watched from a distance as Dorian dragged himself into camp just as the first people were beginning to stir.  Dawn was still a good hour away, but the vampire was, to all intents and purposes, cutting it close as he sloughed off the pack containing the tent from the night before, letting it drop only a few feet away from the one that had been erected for his use today.  Then, despite the fact that Bull had been cautious about staying upwind of the vampire all night, Dorian looked up the hill to the exact cluster of trees Bull was currently sitting under and held open the flap of the tent in invitation.

Bull chuffed softly, unable to laugh in his wolf form, and debated ignoring the invitation.  It wouldn’t hurt him to sleep in the snow in his wolf form, he’d certainly done it the past two days after shifting back into Qunari form long enough for Krem to fill him in on the day’s events.  The Boss had offered to leave a second tent with him after the first night, but Bull knew they were short on supplies and he couldn’t justify depriving someone else for his own comfort.

Dorian shifted his weight on his feet, tilting his head as he continued staring at Bull as if asking if Bull was coming or not and much to Bull’s surprise he found himself rising and padding slowly down the hill.

“Venhedis, you’re a big one aren’t you?” Dorian muttered when Bull padded close, Bull’s head high enough that he could nudge the vampire’s chest if he chose to do so.  Incapable of an actual reply he settled for giving the vampire a toothy pant.

“Delightful,” Dorian snorted, waving his hand to disperse Bull’s wolf breath before taking a step back to allow Bull more room to pass.  “Well, go on if you’re going, I’d like to be inside before the sun begins burning my flesh away.”

Bull chuffed once as he crept past Dorian into the tent, careful not to brush his wet fur against the vampire.  The moment he was through, Dorian stepped into the tent and dropped the flap, securing it at the bottom before moving past Bull to the stack of furs that had been left in the corner of the tent.  “Kaffas, I swear it’s colder today than it was yesterday.”

 _Fuck, was he really complaining about it being cold, in the mountains, in winter?_ Bull would have rolled his eyes if he could, settling instead for a low woof that made Dorian jump then turn to scowl at Bull.

“No comments from the fur brigade,” Dorian chided, stomping his feet several times before rubbing his hands together rapidly.

The familiar pull of magic made Bull’s skin tingle, forcing a growl from his throat that had Dorian raising his hands in placation, a small ball of flame balanced between his two palms.  “Just a little heat,” Dorian was quick to explain, letting the ball bounce from hand to hand, occasionally turning one hand so the ball would skim across the back of it before returning to the other side.

 _Showoff._ Bull chuffed once, then dropped to his haunches and yawned broadly.

“Oh, must you?” Dorian chided with a roll of his eyes, the ball of flame gone with a snap of his fingers.  “The room already smells of wet dog…fasta vass, what _did_ you eat?”

Hey, it wasn’t Bull’s fault…the nug had run when it caught his scent, stupid beast.  Bull had no choice but chase it.  Somehow, he doubted Dorian actually wanted to know that little tidbit of information. Bull did his best to shrug before laying down, his paws ending up just inches from Dorian’s boots as he laid his head down.

Dorian snorted before dropping inelegantly down onto the pile of furs and beginning to remove his boots.  “So, not that I mind carrying the conversation and I will admit you’re far less likely to insult me in this form, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you shifted?”

Bull lifted his head and tilted it slightly, not really sure how to answer that.  It was less that one form was more comfortable than another and more that if he shifted now Pavus was likely to see a whole lot more skin than he bargained for.

Dorian shrugged as he burrowed under the furs without bothering to remove his robes.  “Suit yourself.  You’re welcome to stay or go just try not to let the sun in on your way out if you go please.”

Bull woofed once then settled his head back down on his legs intending to wait until the vampire went to sleep before hunting down Krem and finding out how the day’s trek had gone.  Having been prepared for a long wait, Bull was surprised when after turning once, Dorian began to snore softly.  Slowly rising onto all four paws, Bull took a cautious step forward and nudged his nose at the furs that covered Dorian’s shoulder, surprised when the vampire’s only response was a little hitch to his breathing that settled again almost instantly.

Snorting out a breath, Bull sank onto his haunches and tilted his head, staring confusedly at the fur covered vampire.  How the fuck had Pavus survived this long on his own?  For Koslun’s sake, Bull could tear his throat out right now and the vampire would never even be aware of drawing his last breath.  Perhaps the vamp was worse off than Bull had thought, he had moved far slower tonight than he had the night before.

Panting heavily, Bull sought to find some difference in Pavus’ smell but he could sense no difference in the man’s scent, still redolent of a rain-swept forest.  Snorting again, this time at himself, Bull surged to his feet.  He was being foolish.  Pavus was a pampered pet who had been forced to exert himself for the first time in his life, of course he was tired.  Bull was a fool for worrying.

Turning, Bull padded silently to the entrance of the tent, only looking back at the lump of furs once before nudging at the flap with his nose until he could squeeze out the bottom without untying the closures.  Bull was mildly surprised to find camp seemingly more awake than it had been only minutes ago.  Several fires were burning brightly, cooks stirring what he assumed to be porridge in large black pots while a group of Cullen’s men, undoubtedly the night watch, were stumbling tiredly towards tents where they could only hope to catch a couple hours of sleep before the entire camp pushed on for the day.

Instinct had Bull slinking around the outside of camp, avoiding as many people as possible until he finally reached the tents that smelled of the Chargers.  Nosing at tent flaps he chuffed when he found Krem in the third tent along with Stitches, Grim and Rocky.  Edgy for some reason he couldn’t quite explain, Bull quickly wiggled his way into the tent and after a quick check proved that everyone was still asleep, he shifted, sighing happily as he stretched his arms up over his head before twisting his upper body to the left and right.  Fuck, there were just some muscles he couldn’t quite get to in his wolf form.

Shaking as a shiver worked down his spine, Bull acknowledged that fur did have some uses as he looked for his things, spying his pack sitting on top of his laid out bedroll.  Digging into his pants, Bull settled his eyepatch on first then slipped on his knee brace before making short work of his pants, belt and boots.  Once he felt as settled as he was going to get Bull nudged at Krem’s hip with his boot.  “Come on, Krem Puff, time to wake up.”

Unlike Dorian, Krem shot up like he’d been fired out of a cannon, his teeth bared and a dagger in his hand as he looked around only to fall back the moment he caught sight of Bull.  “Shit, Chief.  Don’t _do_ that.”

“Wouldn’t have to if you were up and waiting when I got here,” Bull huffed, biting back a grin.

“Yeah, last time I did that I saw far more of you than I ever wanted to see, Chief.”

A sharp bark of laughter echoed through the cabin, rousing the other three men just long enough to mutter a curse before they rolled back over.  “Lazy bastards,” Bull grinned, fondly, nudging Krem again with his boot.  “Come on, Krem.  Quick update then I can get some sleep too.”

Krem sighed and sat up, blinking several times until his eyes agreed to remain open.  “Nothing to report, Chief.  Just snow and more snow.  Cullen suggested sending some of his troops ahead to scout but the Herald said she’d rather have them here helping the townsfolk.  Sera and Varric went out to track some game today, brought back a couple healthy bucks but you know how far that’s gonna go with a group this size.  Solas was talking to the Herald this evening but I couldn’t get close enough to hear what that was about.”

“Yeah, alright.  Send Skinner out with Baker’s squad tomorrow to find some game.  Make sure to let Cullen know and try to find out if Red’s made any progress finding out just where in the fuck we are.  Even with the boys hunting food’s gonna get scarce soon, might want to talk to Cullen about doubling up guards on the supplies too.”

“Yes, Chief,” Krem yawned.

“Go back to sleep before you hurt yourself,” Bull chuckled, rising and heading for the door.

Krem yawned again and waved his hand absently before asking, “Hey, what about you, Chief?”

“Gonna go keep an eye on the vamp.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But what about your stuff?” Krem asked, unsurprised when he found himself talking to empty space.  “Right, none of my business,” Krem muttered with a shrug before rolling over and losing himself to sleep.

Bull grinned as he listened to Krem talk to himself from the other side of the canvas, waiting until his lieutenant stopped speaking before striding away towards the center of camp.  Truth be told, Bull ignoring Krem’s question had less to do with it not being any of Krem’s business and more to do with Bull not really knowing himself why he was heading back towards the tent of a man he didn’t trust any farther than he could throw him rather than with men he knew he could trust.  All he knew was the longer he sat in the Chargers’ tent the more annoyed the wolf had gotten until Bull felt he had to give in.

The sun was just a sliver on the horizon when Bull reached Dorian’s tent, certainly not bright enough yet to harm the vampire but he still used caution when opening the ties and even more when securing them again from the inside.  Drawing in a breath, Bull felt the wolf within begin to settle the moment the vampire’s now familiar scent flooded his senses.   _He is the enemy, you are aware of that right?_ Bull projected to his other half, getting only a soft whimper of embarrassment back.

Sighing heavily, Bull shook his head as he dropped to the ground.  Fucking lovely, lost in unmapped mountain terrain with a bunch of civilians and his wolf picked _now_ to get starry-eyed over a fucking vampire.  Pulling off his boots and lining them up in the corner of the tent, Bull stared at the pile of breathing furs for several long moments before deciding the vampire was, indeed, still asleep and sloughing off his belt, pants and knee brace too, making a tidy pile alongside his boots.  His eyepatch was last, tucking the bit of silverite into his pants before letting his shift take him.

It wasn’t until he was curled up on the corner of Dorian’s fur pile, legs tucked in and his nose nudging at his own hip that Bull realized that no matter how annoyed he might have been with his wolf he hadn’t once thought about leaving.  Fuck.

Bull woke with a start as the bed beneath him began to move.  Lifting a tired head he found himself staring into a pair of curious grey eyes.  “Oh, sorry.  I didn’t really expect you to stay,” Dorian muttered as he sat up and stretched his arms wide before raising them above his head, the motion similar enough to Bull’s own movements after a shift to get a little chuff from him.

“This would be much easier in your other form,” Dorian chided, arching a brow at Bull only to break off a moment later as a look of shock flashed across his face, followed by a blush rising to his cheeks.  “Conversation I meant…conversation would be easier, not sleeping…that would be…oh, kaffas.”

Bull was irrationally displeased when Dorian turned away from him.  He had to admit, for a bloodsucking beast, there was something appealing about the vampire when he was flustered.

“Oh, you have clothes,” Dorian muttered, drawing Bull’s attention to the fact he was now pointing at the piles of Bull’s things.  “Do you want me to step outside and let you get dressed?”

Bull tilted his head.  That had been the plan, yes, but that was before he’d spent an entire night sleeping at the foot of Dorian’s bed without a second thought about the fact that the man was just as capable of killing Bull in his sleep as Bull was of killing him.  Yeah, maybe staying in wolf form would be the better choice, he could do some hunting, maybe scout ahead a bit, try to remind his wolf why this infatuation was a bad fucking idea.

Rising, Bull padded towards the door.  “Oh, alright, wolf form it is,” Dorian huffed behind him, sounding a little disappointed.  “I suppose I’ll just put these in my pack then.”

Crap.  Of course Dorian would carry his things.  Which meant it’d take Bull forever to get the vampire’s scent off his clothes.  Noticing the way Bull stood frozen in the doorway, Dorian waved his hands at him and growled, “Go on, go hunt a rabbit or howl at the moon or whatever it is you do, I have a tent to take apart and pack.”

Bull lowered his head slightly, feeling just a tad guilty at leaving Dorian to do all the work before reminding himself that his job was to watch the vampire not feel sorry for him.  Nipping at one of the flap ties until it came loose, Bull looked back once more to find Dorian stuffing furs into a pack.  Forcing back the little chuff of apology that threatened to break free, Bull stepped out into the night.  The vampire was right, he should go hunting, something small and warm would sit good in his belly right now.  And if he made a couple of laps around the tent first just to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them, well, it was just the responsible thing to do.

By the time he caught back up with Dorian, Bull’s belly was full of rabbit and the vampire had managed to make it about two miles from where they had camped.  In all honesty, Bull had expected the vamp to make better time and had ended up having to backtrack about a mile to find him sitting on the edge of a fallen log, his pack beside him in the snow.

 _See, we were right to bring it._  Bull’s inner wolf crowed, forcing Bull to growl softly as he resumed his approach.

“Ah, you’re back,” Dorian grinned, his expression curious as Bull walked straight up to him and dropped the rabbit, well half a rabbit, he’d been carrying directly in his lap.  “Oh!” Dorian squeaked with a startled jump, his fingers tentatively reaching for the rabbit’s hind legs.

Bull turned and skulked away even as the wolf side of him rejoiced at Dorian’s apparent acceptance of his gift.

“You didn’t have…” Dorian started, breaking off as Bull swung his head around to pin him with a stare.  “That is, thank you, of course, but I’m not sure there’s time for a fire and I really don’t think…”

Bull was once again thwarted in his effort to roll his eyes, having to settle for an annoyed chuff before moving towards the fallen log and grasping a branch in his teeth.  Pulling, it snapped easily, slightly damp from previous snowfall but high enough from the packed bits to remain relatively dry.  Dropping it at Dorian’s feet he sat and looked at the vampire expectantly.

“Ok, ok, I get the picture.  Eat, then travel,” Dorian chuckled, laying the rabbit to the side before standing and breaking off several more branches himself then arranging them carefully and summoning a bit of magic to start a fire.

Watching Dorian skin half a rabbit proved far more entertaining than Bull had anticipated.  A fact that did not escape the vampire’s attention considering the way he kept scowling over at Bull in between attempts only to crow happily when he finally succeeded.  Bull just shook his head and laid down on the snow.  Really, the vampire was ridiculous, and never more so than when the rabbit was finally ready to eat and Dorian practically burnt his fingertips off trying to eat it before it was cooled.

Still, once the fire had been extinguished and they we back on the move, Bull had to admit that Dorian seemed to be moving faster.  Was it possible that the man had simply been hungry all along!?  Thinking back, Bull couldn’t remember the vampire stopping to eat on any of the prior nights and certainly he hadn’t eaten once he got to the tent last night.

 _Fuck, had the fool gone hungry all this time?_  Snarling, Bull padded sullenly a few steps behind Dorian, guilt over only sparing Dorian half a rabbit riding him hard.  His wolf had encouraged him to bring the whole kill to the vampire, after all, it was their second of the night, but Bull had been annoyed by the wolf’s apparent infatuation with Dorian and had snapped the rabbit in half as soon as the kill was made.

His wolf whined softly, leaving Bull feeling even more petty, but there was little to be done about it now.  Though the vampire was making better time tonight Bull still feared that their unexpected stop might making arriving at the next camp before daybreak difficult and he didn’t dare leave Dorian on his own for fear the vampire would make far more stops than he tended to with Bull at his heels.  No, they would have to continue for now and tomorrow he would make certain to hunt for them both.

Appeased, Bull’s wolf settled, letting Bull lose himself in the simplicity of putting one paw in front of the other, their trail broken by the passage of those who traveled before them.  As feared, the horizon was already a vivid pink by the time they reached the Inquisition camp and without a word the pair of them moved tiredly into the tent that had been left.  Dorian was quick to drop his pack and shed his boots, not even bothering to ask if Bull was staying before burrowing beneath the furs and sighing heavily.

Bull envied the vampire, knowing he should check in with Krem before settling down to sleep.  Bull contemplated Dorian’s pack for a moment, uncertain about digging through the vampire’s things to find his own belongings.

“Fasta vass, go to sleep already.  Your thinking loud enough to keep me awake,” Dorian muttered sleepily, rolling over to stare accusingly at Bull with tired eyes.

Bull woofed softly, then settled into the spot he’d claimed the night before on the corner of the furs.  He had to admit the thought of going back into the cold wasn’t a pleasant one.  Besides, Krem knew where to find him if he needed him…

“Chief?  Hey…Chief, you in there?”

Bull’s head shot up at the sound of Krem’s voice, a low growl forming in his throat as he realized just how much defused light was in the tent, proof that it was still daytime.  Shifting, Bull lunged for the tent flap just as Krem threw one side open.

Dorian’s cry of pain was instantaneous, echoing through the tent as Bull yanked Krem in by his shirt.  Spinning his lieutenant around he growled, “Tie them, and for fuck’s sake don’t let any more light in.”

“Aye, Chief,” Krem whispered, his face so pale it was almost translucent as he glanced over his shoulder at Dorian.

Bull’s own attention followed as he returned to the fur pile, dropping to his knees, the pungent scent of burnt flesh overtaking his senses.  “How bad?” he growled, pushing the furs back until he could catch sight of Dorian.

“Fine…fine…just…my hand…a little of my arm,” Dorian gritted out, obviously in pain as he twisted to shield the injuries from Bull.

With his wolf inside practically seething, Bull swung around to glare at his second.  “What the fuck were you thinking, Krem?”

“I’m _sorry,_ Chief,” Krem cried, his eyes locked on Dorian’s fur covered form rather than meeting Bull’s stare.  “I just…they found it…well something…fuck, it’s a castle, Chief, old as shit but still standing, just a couple hours from here.  I thought you’d want to know.  I didn’t…I just…shit, I’m sorry.”

Bull huffed and dropped onto his ass, only belatedly realizing he was naked as the furs hit his bare skin.  “Fuck, it’s not your fault.  I should have…”

“You should go,” Dorian interrupted, sitting up to stare at the two men while keeping his injured hand concealed beneath the furs.

“What?” Bull demanded, twisting to look at Dorian as he tried to ignore the wolf’s outraged cries.   _He is injured, he cannot send us away._

“The Herald will likely need help getting everyone settled and Cullen will undoubtedly have work for the Chargers.”

“He’s right, Chief,” Krem offered.  “Commander’s already asked if the boys can help with searching the castle, figuring out what spaces we might be able to use without ‘em falling on our heads.”

“See, you should go.  Your men need you.”

“And what about you?” Bull growled, uncertain if he was more frustrated about the pair of them being right or the fact that it felt so much like a dismissal.

Dorian shrugged.  “Not much I can do until nightfall, but I assure you I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

“And your hand?” Bull grumbled, annoyed that the vampire was downplaying his injury.

“Unless one of you is offering your blood,” Dorian paused to stare at them both with arched brow before snorting.  “Yes, I thought not.  In that case, there’s not much to be done about it now.  It will keep until I can get in touch with one of my contacts.”

“Dorian…”

“Vishante kaffas, how much clearer can I be?” Dorian huffed, reaching out with his good hand to grab his pack and pull it to him.  Dorian pulled Bull’s belongings out, dropping them onto the furs as he continued, “I do not require coddling and you are interrupting my sleep.  I would appreciate it if you moved along now.”

Bull scowled at Dorian for a long moment, definitely irritated now by the vampire’s easy dismissal and by his wolf’s annoying insistence that they ignore Dorian’s wishes and stay.

“Chief?”

Shit, Bull had practically forgotten Krem was there.  Waving his second off, Bull sighed, accepting that he wasn’t going to change Dorian’s mind.  “Go on outside Krem, I’ll be out in a minute.  And for fuck’s sake, be more careful this time.”

“Yes, Chief!”

Bull dressed in silence, half expecting Dorian to say something since he could feel the vampire’s eyes on him the whole time but when he finally stood and turned to face Dorian, he found the vamp facing the other way.  Still uncertain that leaving was the right thing to do, Bull murmured soft enough that Krem wouldn’t overhear, “I could come back, once it’s dark.”

“You do and I’ll scorch the fur from your back,” Dorian whispered back, fiercely.  “Go, and do let Evie know I’ll be along before dawn.”

Bull snorted.  Reduced to messenger, what else had he expected?  Annoyed, he still used care in exiting the tent, taking extra time to work the ties tight again the afternoon sun before turning towards Krem and clasping his shoulder.  “All right, Kremsicle, where’s this magic castle you’ve found?”


	5. Detours and Disappearances

Dorian waited, biting his lip to stay silent, until their voices faded away to nothing before letting the tears he’d been willing back fall.  Muttering a frost spell, Dorian cooled his healthy hand down before laying the injured one gently against it, the red, blistered skin of his right hand and forearm contrasting violently with his normally bronze colored skin.

Cringing, Dorian bit back the cry of pain that even the slightest movement of the injured appendage caused.  Venhedis, what had he been thinking leaving his arm out of the furs?  He knew better, fuck, even a fledgling would know better than to leave himself so exposed.

Gritting his teeth against the stomach turning pain that was throbbing up his arm and across his chest, Dorian pushed out what little healing magic he could, certainly not enough to actually heal the wounds considering he hadn’t consumed any blood in almost five days and what little he had consumed before Haven fell he had given to Evelyn.

As it was, he was lucky to feel a blessed numbness take over the area, enough to let him breathe freely as he waited for darkness to fall and planned his next move.  It wasn’t so much that he doubted what needed to be done, more that it was so damned distasteful.  Only the desperate or the deprived fed off the blood of beasts, a debasement Dorian had thus far in his life managed to avoid.  Still, it was better than the alternative…

Which is why he had encouraged The Iron Bull to hurry along to whatever shelter the Inquisition had managed to find.  Anything to get the were, and his fucking blood that practically sang to Dorian, away before he did something rash.  Something unforgivable.

Even now he couldn’t help but imagine how rich The Iron Bull’s blood would be, the hint of spice that would mark the blood as Bull’s, the way its warmth would spread over his tongue...venhedis, only madness lie in that direction.  Watching as the shadows crept slowly up the side of the tent, Dorian told himself it wouldn’t be long until he could escape, every bit the creature of the night The Iron Bull accused him of being.

 

 

Bull watched as the shadows chased each other across the walls of the keep.  Krem hadn’t been lying.  It was a castle alright.   _Skyhold_.  Ancient keep of the elves, dwarves and Koslun only knew who else and now home to the Inquisition.

Bull had spent what was left of the day helping get tents set up in the large open courtyards, injured and what remained of the livestock on the better insulated lower terrace, the rest of the troops and Bull’s men on higher ground.  The Boss, officially the Inquisitor now, had already started scouting out the main rooms of the keep along with her advisors.

Now, as the sun was finally getting ready to set, Bull found himself thinking about leaving Dorian behind.   _It was wrong,_ his wolf insisted for probably the thousandth time since they’d walked away from the tent and for the first time Bull began to wonder if the beast wasn’t right.  Certainly the vampire should have enough time to reach Skyhold, the trail was well beaten down so he shouldn’t have any trouble following it, but he was injured and Bull was only too aware of just how dangerous an injured vamp could be.  Seheron had seen to that.  Perhaps he should…

“Ah, The Iron Bull.  I was hoping I could speak to you,” Cullen’s voice cut through Bull’s musings.

Damn it.  Casting one more impatient look out the guard gates to the snow covered trail beyond, Bull rose and turned.  “Of course, Commander, what can I do for you?”

 

 

Thick, warm, rich.  The creature’s blood flooded Dorian’s mouth and his senses even as his fingers felt the poor things heart beating so hard in its chest he was surprised it hadn’t died of fright.   _Bodies lying discarded like so many broken dolls, lifeless eyes staring as Dorian stepped into the room._

No, focus on the now not the then.  On what is necessary… _ah, but wasn’t it necessary to Father._

“Kaffas,” Dorian muttered, his fangs retreating as gently as possible from the fox’s throat, his saliva already working to heal the wound even as the creature began to struggle in his grip.   It had been a foolish thought anyway, to believe he could feed from a live donor simply because he had been able to stomach the minute amount he’d needed to take from Evelyn.  Releasing the beast, Dorian watched as it took a few unsteady steps, likely disoriented as much from the lightning cage as from blood loss, before bounding off toward the tree line.

Not enough, Dorian thought as he watched it go, he hadn’t taken enough and yet he wasn’t certain he could have consumed anymore without vomiting it back up anyway.  Remembering the way Bull’s blood had called to him earlier, Dorian huffed out a bitter laugh.  Venhedis, it would have served the annoying were right if Dorian had fed from him only to spill it back out on the man’s boots.

Twisting, Dorian sat, his wounded hand cradled by the healthy one as even the minimal blood he took from the fox accelerated his healing, his hand tingling uncomfortably as nerve ending knit back together, new skin replacing the damaged flesh.  Pushing a simple healing spell at the area took care of the open wounds on his arm and hand, leaving the skin a mottled pink that would soon scar unless Dorian found additional blood.

Unfortunately, unless he planned to both miraculously overcome his aversion to fresh blood AND utterly betray his promise to The Iron Bull, Dorian’s only option was to get off this Maker forsaken mountain.  Taking a last, longing look at the packed trail worn down by Haven’s various inhabitants, Dorian hefted his pack and walked resolutely across the packed trail into the knee-deep snow on the other side.  Unburdened by the Inquisition’s wounded, Dorian’s picked the path that would lead him down the mountain the fastest.  He could only hope it would be fast enough.

 

 

“You’re sure no one else came through the gates last night.”

“I am certain, Messere Bull,” the guard assured him with a vigorous nod.  “The gates were lowered at dusk and only raised for the changing of the guards at midnight.  Your group will be the first ones out this morning.”

“So he might have slipped in…”

“Chief, team’s assembled,” Krem shouted, his voice echoing in the still morning air.

Shit.  Bull had hoped he’d have a few more minutes before they headed out.  But Cullen had chosen the Chargers to return to Haven specifically _because_ they could travel quickly which would make a difference in whether they brought back survivors or corpses.

“Messere?”

Sighing heavily, Bull shook his head.  “Nothing.  I’m sure he’ll be along tonight.  Make sure to let the Inquisitor know if someone arrives in the evening hours.”

“Of course, Messere,” the guard agreed quickly, bowing to Bull before hurrying off on his way.

“Chief!”

Bull snorted and turned to walk back to where a dozen or so Chargers stood, waiting for him to join them.  “Fuck, Krem, you trying to wake the whole camp?” Bull grumbled, taking the reins from his second and finding his seat on his huge destrier.  Bull waited until Krem mounted his own smaller grey gelding before calling out softly, “Chargers, Horns up!”

 

 

Dorian came across the roads first, near the end of his first night walking alone.  The roads were traveled frequently enough to be almost clear of snow and bridged valleys with stones laid so precisely they could only be Dwarven built.  By the end of the second night Dorian could smell them, their blood calling to his hungry body like bees to honey.

Glancing at the rapidly brightening sky, Dorian debated setting camp for the day only to grow concerned about discovery this close to a village.  Scarred hand clenching tightly at his staff he decided to chance the last of his mana to fade step, blurring time itself as he made short work of the remaining distance between himself and the humans who had been drawing him ever closer.

Letting go of the cloak of magic, Dorian sagged for a moment against his staff, his eyes closed as he drew several deep breaths in before daring to look…only to burst into tear-filled laughter.  For beyond the array of tall tents and colorful flags lay the great stone gates of Orzammar.

Of anywhere he could have ended up, he could think of no place better.  Squaring his shoulders he moved past the merchants who were already setting up their booths for the day, ignoring their curious glances and the questions whispered in his wake.

The morning sun was already casting its light upon the top spires of the gates as Dorian strode up the stairs and stopped before the guards.  It took but a moment for the one on the left to step forward, his hand on the pommel of his sword as he said, “You risk much in traveling at this hour, Dark One.”

“Ah, but who could resist the chance to see the gates of mighty Orzammar by daylight?” Dorian responded with a practiced grin.

“And what brings you to our door?”

“I seek respite from the sky within the stone.”

“Aye, don’t we all brother.  Do you swear to harm none once you enter these gates?”

“I swear to harm none save in self-defense.”

The guard nodded and the pair stepped to the side as the enormous stone doors behind them began to open.  “You may enter, Dark One.  You can find a room at Tapster’s Tavern in the Commons and they can direct you towards anything else you might require.”

Dorian nodded his thanks and quickly stepped inside, the doors already closing behind him as he went.  As tired as he was, it was impossible to ignore the hallway that stretched out before him, lined with statues that, upon closer inspection, proved to be the various Paragons of Dwarven history.  The historian in him itched to inspect each one but now, without the threat of the the sun’s rays finishing the job they’d started days ago, he was finding it hard to summon up the energy to continue putting one foot in front of the other.  He feared if he stopped he might simply sink to the ground where he stood and so he continued on until the quiet of the entrance hallway gave way to the bustling plaza Dorian took to be the Commons.

A couple of questions soon found him standing before the tavern, the three stoneware mugs depicted on the sign out front leaving Dorian little doubt he’d found the right place and he stepped in to find only a quartet of dwarves sitting at one table while another was occupied by a single elf.  A serving girl approached him quickly and in what felt like moments Dorian found himself in a small but well equipped room, complete with running water and a bed that didn’t smell like wet dog.

Dropping his pack by the door, Dorian stumbled towards the bed and fell onto it, face first.  He was asleep before he could even think of removing his boots.

 

Bull reined in his mount as the towers and bridges of Skyhold finally came into view.  Waving Grim on, Bull watched as his men made their way slowly past him with the few survivors of the Haven attack that they had been able to find.

Running a tired hand over his face, Bull forced himself to remember that the fact they had found survivors at all meant their mission had been a success.  A fact far too easy to forget when he could still see those stark white fields of snow that marked the only sign that Haven had ever existed.  He supposed, come Spring, they could go again, bury the bodies and retrieve anything else of value that hadn’t been plundered, but that would be Cullen’s call.  For now, Haven was as lost to them as the Golden City itself.

Sighing, Bull waited until the last of the survivors rode past before falling into position next to Krem.  “Make sure the mead or whatever’s available is flowing tonight, Krem.  My gold.  The boys deserve it.”

“Aye, Chief,” Krem nodded.  “Gotta admit I’ll be glad to sleep inside four walls tonight.”

“You getting’ soft on me Krem Puff?”

“What?  Never,” Krem rushed to assure him, gaining him a soft chuckle from Bull before the pair fell quiet.  Even on his bad side Bull could feel Krem glance at him a couple of times before finally breaking the silence.  “So, you think he’s back?”

Bull didn’t need to ask who, Koslun knew his wolf had been asking the same fucking question for the past ten days.  “Fuck if I know, Krem.  You know vampires, they do as they please.”

Krem scowled, looking for all the world like he wanted to say something else but in the end he just whispered, “Yes, Chief.”

Bull might have convinced Krem that it didn’t matter but that didn’t change the fact that from the moment he rode through the gates, Bull found himself trying to catch even a hint of Dorian’s scent only to come up empty.  The wolf was alert immediately, ignoring Bull’s assurances that it was logical to find no sign of the mage at this point.  Dorian wasn’t the sort to spend much time in either the stables or the healer’s tents.  Still, as he made his way across the lower meadow and up the steps towards the upper courtyard, even Bull’s concern began to peak.

Turning left when he hit the top of the stairs and continuing up into the keep itself was almost instinctive, his long legs taking the steps two at a time until he finally set foot in the great hall.

“Tiny!  You’re back.  It’s good to…”

“Where’s the Boss, Varric?”

“What?  Oh, yeah, right, last door on the left, far end of the hall.  Go on through the door and up the stairs.  Everything all…”

Bull took off across the now cleared hall the minute Varric gave him the directions, pushing through the doorway into a dusty stairwell.  Taking these stairs far more carefully, Bull stuck to the inside edges of them, assuming that if they allowed the Boss up here they had to be sound, but still, she wasn’t a seven foot Qunari.

Finally reaching the head of the stairs, Bull knocked loudly.   _Hurry, hurry, we must find him,_ his wolf howled plaintively, adding to Bull’s impatience as he waited what seemed like forever for the door to open.  

“Bull, you’re back,” the Boss greeted him cheerfully, surging up to hug him and waiting until he returned her embrace.

He managed to wait until she had settled back on her heels before demanding, “Where is he?”

“Where’s who, Bull?”

“You know who,” Bull huffed.  “Dorian fucking Pavus.”

“Ah,” the Boss whispered, the hint of a smile flirting at her lips as she turned and made her way up yet another flight of stairs.

“What do you mean ‘ah’, Boss?” Bull demanded, storming up the stairs behind her.  “Doesn’t it bother you that you left Haven with a bloodsucking vampire, one who I might add has already taken your blood and now he’s just gone.  Damn it Boss, he was injured, an injured vampire is far more dangerous than…”

Bull broke off when he realized the Boss was smirking as she leaned against her desk, watching him pace back and forth across the room.  Scowling over at her, he growled, “What is so funny?”

“I am the head of the Inquisition, Bull,” she drawled, her lips still curled, though her eyes had turned decidedly flinty.  “What in Andraste’s blessed bosom makes you think that I would _misplace_ a member of my inner circle?”

Bull froze, even his wolf stock-still for the moment.  “Sorry, Boss.  But are you saying you _do_ know where he is?  Because I’m sure as shit not scenting him anywhere in Skyhold.”

“I’m _saying_ that Dorian Pavus is not your concern,” the Boss hedged, taking Bull by the arm and leading him back towards the stairwell as if their conversation had actually concluded even though Bull felt nothing of the sort.  “I am glad that you stopped by, however.  I am leaving for Crestwood in the morning.  Some business with the mayor there and I’d like you to go with me.”

“Of course, Boss,” he assured her, finding himself standing on the wrong side of the door before he was even aware of moving down the stairs.

 _But what about_ …his wolf howled, just as the door slammed shut behind him, the loud slide of the bolt leaving him no questions about her being done answering his questions for tonight.

 

“Morning, Boss, Varric,” Bull muttered, giving the pair a nod before moving to stow his gear in his saddlebags.

“Damn, Tiny, did you even go to bed last night?” Varric chuckled, giving Bull a second glance.

Well, technically the answer to that would be no.  But to admit that would be to invite Varric’s speculation on just where Bull had been instead and while Bull usually enjoyed Varric’s light-hearted ribbing, at the moment he was too fucking tired to want to deal with it.  “I’m here aren’t I?”

“Sure, sure, I just would have thought you’d want to catch up on your beauty sleep considering…”

“Varric!” The Boss growled, stepping forward and handing off the reins of a fourth horse to the dwarf before mounting her own brown mare.

Bull frowned as he stared at the extra horse.  Bull knew he’d been running late today so he’d assumed when he’d come down the stairs and seen only the Boss and Varric that they were going to run a small party.  Apparently, he’d been wrong.

“Hey, Boss, who we miss…” Bull broke off as the first pungent whiffs of rain-soaked wood, decaying and fertile and cut through with the crisp scent of air that has been scoured clean and clear reached him.  Bull’s spine snapped straight, the wolf within suddenly standing at attention as Bull was forced to hold back his change like he was once again a pup unfamiliar with how his shift worked.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me for staying indoors until we were ready to leave,” Dorian purred from behind Bull, his words enough to have the wolf quivering even as Bull spun around to scowl at him.

“And just where the fuck have you been?” Bull growled, ignoring both his wolf’s snarl at his behavior and Pavus’ fleeting hurt expression that soon settled into haughty indifference.

“What’s the matter, Iron Bull?  Miss me?” Dorian taunted.

“Like the Blight.”

“Now, now boys, plenty of time to snipe later…” Varric cajoled, handing Dorian the reins to his mount before muttering, “when I have my notebook handy.”

“Now see here…”

“That’s enough, all of you,” the Boss rumbled, nudging her mount until it sidestepped neatly between Bull and Dorian.  “Just in case you’ve forgotten we have a mission to accomplish and so far nothing you lot have done is advancing that in the slightest.  Perhaps you’d rather join Cullen in the Fallow Mire?”

“No, Boss,” Bull barked out, tuning out the other responses in favor of climbing into the saddle and turning his destrier toward the gate.


	6. Not Every Mage Is A Blood Mage

Dorian watched as Bull nudged his huge grey stallion towards the gate, tension evident in every muscle of the larger man’s body.  He wasn’t sure what Evie was thinking taking both he and Bull out on a mission together, especially since it was obvious that Bull regretted whatever budding friendship he had begun with Dorian while they were trapped in the snow.

Kaffas, listen to him.  Budding friendship indeed.  Apparently all it took was having half a dead rabbit thrown in his lap and suddenly he was seeing centuries of hatred between their races erased in the blink of an eye.

Snorting hard, Dorian shook his head and forced his attention back to his saddlebags, making sure the bottles of blood were safely nestled in their protective leather pouches and securely buckled in before setting his foot into the stirrup and sliding into the saddle.

“Ready, Dorian?” Evie asked from astride her own mare and Dorian nodded, hesitating just long enough to pull up the hood on his cloak before riding up beside her, leaving Varric to follow up the rear.

 

 

“So, Orzammar huh, Sparkler?  What’d you think of it?”

Dorian frowned across the campfire at Varric.  It had already been a very long day, made even longer it seemed by the fact that The Iron Bull seemed to spend the entire day either scowling at Dorian or riding ahead of the group so he didn’t have to look at him.  So, it only figured that Varric would start in now on the subject Dorian least wanted to talk about.

“Sparkler?”

Flexing his once injured hand, still covered by a glove, in remembered pain, Dorian finally muttered, “It was large.  And dark.”

Varric’s laughter boomed through camp, the rogue slapping his own leg as he shook his head.  “I suppose it’s a good thing you aren’t the writer.  Crap, Sparkler, it’s an entire city, the seat of Dwarven culture and whatnot, of course it’s large.”

“I wasn’t exactly there for the sightseeing opportunities.”

“Too busy hunting down your next victim?” Bull muttered, drawing a little gasp from Dorian but when Dorian looked over at the Qunari he was fixated on the axe he was currently polishing.

“How about the food,” Varric continued as though nothing untoward had been said.  “What’d you think of that?  Try the mosswine?  Or the cave beetle?  Come on Sparkler, give me _something_.”

Dorian was tempted to tell Varric the truth.  That after he woke up the first morning and had sent a missive to his Tal-Vashoth contact he spent the next five days hiding in his room like a frightened mouse least his rising blood-lust cause him to take what was not freely offered.  That by the time his contact arrived with his blood, the scarring on his hand and arm had progressed to such a point that the only option was to live with the limitations the scarring caused him or recreate the wound and allow it to heal again, this time with the benefit of him being at full strength.  

He was just lucky that his contact wasn’t a squeamish man.  Dorian wasn’t certain he could have held his hand to the flame long enough of his own volition.  “The roast bronto was passable but if I never hear of lichen bread again it will be too soon.”

“Missing your fancy Minrathous cooks, Pavus?” Bull taunted, and this time when Dorian looked Bull’s way he found the larger man looking right at him, his lips curled in a sneer.  “What’s the matter, food just not the same if it’s made by free men?”

“ _Bull_!”

Evie’s hiss was accompanied by Varric’s sharply indrawn breath but Dorian just shook his head at her and whispered, “It’s fine, Evie.  Perhaps it’s better if I turn in for the night.”

“Dorian,” Evie pleaded, reaching out to him.  It was a simple thing to skirt her hand and continue on to the tent he was sharing with Varric.

 

If the prior day had been long, the next day was positively never-ending.  Evie had appointed herself Dorian’s guardian, and as such had chosen to ride beside Bull all day, the pair of them sitting tall and stiff in the saddle and looking anywhere but at each other.  Which left Dorian to ride beside Varric, who had apparently decided that the prior night’s tensions were all his fault and therefore had also remained uncharacteristically silent all day.

It was almost a relief then when they rode a little way off the road looking for a suitable camping spot for the night only to run into a squad of Red Templars accompanied by a couple of Venatori mages.  Time seemed to slow then, even without Dorian casting a spell.  He watched as Bull leapt from his horse, one hand already reaching for the huge double headed axe he wore strapped to his back as his other smacked his horse on the ass.

Dorian didn’t even bother dismounting before casting a barrier over Bull then another over Evie when she vaulted from her horse onto a rock outcropping and pulled out her bow.

“Alright, Bianca, time to get to work,” Dorian heard Varric mutter, his smaller mountain pony racing past Dorian’s own mount as Dorian finally slid from the saddle and pulled out his staff.

Striding closer to the battle, Dorian refreshed the barrier on Bull just as the Qunari took the head off one of the Red Templars, the body barely hitting the ground before Dorian was channeling a spell to bind the spirits that were always drawn to the recently dead.

Casting horror on the Venatori mages, Dorian refreshed the other barriers before dropping a freezing rune under a marksman who was targeting Evie only to feel a bolt from Varric’s crossbow skim past the back of his skull a moment later, embedding itself in a Shadow who had thought to sneak up on Dorian.

Nodding quickly at the dwarf, Dorian turned his attention back to the mages.  Finding one already down with Evie’s arrow stuck through his heart, he focused his efforts on the last remaining mage, launching an ice bolt at the man just as he let loose a fireball of his own.  Dodging the incoming flames, Dorian spun and almost set his foot down, hesitating only at the last moment as a tendril of foreign magic pulled at his boot.  Planting his foot on the other side of the active rune, he dropped to the ground and grabbed a stick, throwing it onto the trap and freezing it firmly in place before seizing another nearby spirit and turning its focus towards the Venatori mage.

With a smirk the mage spun his staff, slicing a neat line across his forearm as he began to chant.   _Kaffas, but he hated blood mages,_ Dorian thought with a snarl, digging deep into his mana pool to fade step behind the bastard, his staff blade slicing cleanly through the other mage’s throat before he could finish his spell.

Wiping the spray of blood that coated his hand off on his robes, Dorian surveyed the battlefield only to find that all of their enemies were down, his teammates apparently all in good health.  Nudging at the dead mage before him, Dorian muttered, “If you would, Bull.”

“With pleasure,” Bull assured him, the Qunari’s words somewhat distorted by the fangs Dorian saw still distended in his mouth.  Taking a step back, Dorian watched as Bull completed the job Dorian had started, severing the mage’s head from his shoulders.

Once the task was done, Bull continued to stare at the dead mage.  “Why didn’t you use blood magic against him?”

Of course.  Because he was a Tevinter vampire, he must engage in blood magic.  Dorian snorted and shook his head.  “It may surprise you to learn that I was brought up to believe blood magic was the resort of a weak mind.”

Surprisingly, there was no return taunt from Bull.  Instead the Qunari just hefted his axe onto his shoulder before heading off towards the mage that Evie had killed.

“Is that really necessary?” Evie quietly asked, her eyes locked on where Bull was taking the second mage’s head.

“Better safe than sorry, Boss.”

“I suppose, it’s just…”

“Without a family name there is no way to know if he was a vampire or not Evie,” Dorian clarified as he crossed to her side.

“What? No super-secret handshake, Sparkler?”

“Hardly,” Dorian chuckled with a roll of his eyes.

“I always heard it was matching bat shaped birthmarks.”  Dorian startled as Bull’s voice boomed out behind him.

“Vishante kaffas, don’t encourage him,” Dorian chided, turning to find Bull looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.  He supposed he should count it as a success that he was fairly certain the look wasn’t loathing.

“Alright, we still have a campsite to find,” Evie reminded them all, her hand settling reassuringly on Dorian’s shoulder.  “Let’s go round up the horses.”

 

Later that night, after Varric woke Dorian for his turn at watch then proceeded to curl up in his bedroll and snore before Dorian could even get out of the tent, Dorian walked a slow lap around camp.  His senses far sharper than a human’s, it was easy to tell that there was nothing roaming near camp larger than a pair of fennecs at the moment, but Dorian could have told that from where he’d been sitting.  No, his lap around the tents was more about listening for the breathing patterns of his teammates, making certain that they were all sound asleep so that he could take advantage of the midnight hours to feed.

Once he felt certain they were all settled, Dorian moved back to the pack he’d left abandoned at the edge of camp, once again lowering himself onto the sloped rock he’d been using as a chair.  Carefully withdrawing one of the leather wrapped bottles, he pulled the cork and took a breath, not bothering to hide the way his fangs lengthened just a little bit more in preparation for a bite that would not occur or the way his eyes were more red than silver at the moment, his vision shifting until he could see the blood pounding in the veins of a rabbit nearby.

Tipping the bottle up, Dorian grimaced as the cold, thick fluid coursed over his tongue.  Maker, he hated how every time he drank now he remembered how satisfyingly warm the fox’s blood had been, how much fresher Evie’s had…

No.  No he would not…

“Manage to sneak a bottle of that fancy Vint shit out here?”

Dorian hissed instinctually, springing up and turning to face the intruder before his brain identified it as Bull.  The were fell back a couple of steps, his hands coming up defensively, a low growl starting in his chest.  

“Fasta vass, I’m sorry, give me a moment,” Dorian muttered, his fangs catching on his lip as he spoke.

Capping the bottle, Dorian closed his eyes and willed his fangs to retract, his eyes to return to normal.  Sighing softly as he felt his body finally respond, he opened his eyes to stare at Bull’s feet, feeling entirely too exposed to dare meeting the man’s gaze.  “Sorry about that, I needed to…”

“Uh, yeah, my fault,” Bull interrupted, his weight shifting nervously on his feet.  “I just thought I’d come out and see if you were alright.  I should go.”

“You don’t…” Dorian started, but Bull was already moving away back toward camp leaving Dorian to drop back onto the rock he’d been previously occupying.  “Well, that was certainly mortifying,” he whispered into the night, wondering if he could possibly get by without feeding again until they returned to Skyhold.


	7. Fragile Truce

Dorian sighed softly as they rode through Gherlen’s Pass.  The sky was clear and it wasn’t yet midday so the odds were good they’d make Skyhold by nightfall.  He hadn’t actually had to do without feeding for the whole trip since they’d made a detour after checking in with the Mayor of Crestwood to see how the troops at Caer Bronach were faring and ended up staying for a couple of days.  Still, that had been four days ago and Dorian was starting to feel the familiar tingling on his skin as his immunities to the sun’s rays began to fade.

“Looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed, Sparkler?” Varric asked as they followed Bull and Evie when they veered off the main road to continue down the far newer, less traveled trail that would lead them home.

“That is a nice…” Before Dorian could even get the word ‘benefit’ out a lone rider came tearing down the trail at breakneck speed, prompting all of them to reach for their weapons.

By the time the horse and rider were close enough to identify the woman as one of the Chargers, Bull was already off his own horse and standing in the road, the axe he had a the ready slowly dropping head first to the ground.  “Shit, Skinner, I could have cut you in half.”

“We need you, Chief…it’s Krem…he’s...it’s bad…,” the elf huffed, her own breathing almost as winded as her mount’s.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Bull encouraged as he slung his axe back into its sheath and moved forward to take her horse’s reins.  “What’s this about Krem?”

Skinner slipped out of the saddle and bent over, hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths before straightening.  “We were in the Hinterlands, the Commander wanted us to clear out some of the wolves threatening the horsemaster’s farm.  It shouldn’t have been there, but it was…”

“ _Skinner_ ,” Bull bit out, the elf’s attention snapping to him.  “ _What_ was there?”

“Wyvern, Chief.  Leapt down on Krem the moment we entered the canyon.  Dalish iced it but not before it tore Krem up something fierce.  Stitches wasn’t with us and by the time we got back to Skyhold the poison…”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” Bull muttered, spinning and rushing towards Evie, Skinner’s mount pulled along behind him by the reins still gripped tightly in Bull’s hands.  “Boss, I’ve gotta…”

Evie slid calmly from the saddle, reaching for the reins in Bull’s hands and handing him back his own.  “It’s ok, Bull, we understand, go.”

Foot in the stirrup, Bull started to mount only to hesitate at the last moment.  “Skinner?”

“Go, Bull,” Evie encouraged.  “We’ll rest her horse for a bit then head back together.  You need anything from us?”

“Skinner?” Bull called again, the absolute panic in his voice surprising even Dorian.  The Iron Bull was many things, but never panicked.

“Nothing more _to_ do.  Stitches says the poison’s been cleared the problem now is whether or not he’s strong enough to recover.  If he makes it through the…”

“When,” Bull grumbled, the low growl that followed making his destrier sidestep anxiously.

“Yes, Chief!” Skinner quickly agreed, stepping out of the way as Bull finally mounted and took off down the trail without another word.

They all watched, silently, until Bull disappeared into the forest then they all stared quietly at each other.  No one liked losing a comrade at arms, but everyone knew that Krem was more than that to Bull.  Even if Bull didn’t say it, the Chargers were Bull’s pack, his to protect and in Bull’s mind he would have failed.

Eventually, it was Evie who broke the silence, closing the distance between herself and Skinner and handing the elf back the reins for her horse.  “Come on, there was a stream not too far back.  We’ll get your mount rested up and be back in Skyhold before you know it.”

Despite Evie’s optimism, it was late by the time they finally passed through the gates into Skyhold.  Even later by the time Dorian managed to find the room that had been assigned to him several weeks ago, a task complicated by him taking a left when he should have taken a right in the central hallway, but eventually he stood in his blessedly windowless room.  Dropping his pack to the floor, he contemplated whether it would be worth it to bother undressing before falling into the clean, warm bed and sleeping for the next twelve hours.  He had almost convinced himself that it would when his conscience spoke up and insisted he wouldn’t be slipping between the sheets anytime soon.  Skinner may have said that there was nothing more that could be done for The Iron Bull’s second, but Dorian knew better.

“Damn it,” Dorian muttered, dropping his head back against the door with a solid thud.  What exactly about the fragile truce he and The Iron Bull seemed to be operating under made him think he would welcome Dorian’s help anyway?   _Because it’s not about The Iron Bull, it’s about Cremisius,_ his conscience insisted on reminding him.

And he supposed it was true.  Dorian knew the man was from Tevinter, that much was evident from the remains of his accent and his immediate hatred of Dorian, but while Cremisius looked at Dorian and saw only another pampered Magister, Dorian knew better.  Oh, he might have the family name, but he was no more welcome back in Tevinter than Cremisius was and at some point he supposed that meant he was honor bound to help his fellow refugee.

So, with one last longing look at his bed, Dorian went to track down the healer’s tent.  It was there he found The Iron Bull, slumped over on a small stool, head on his hand that was braced on his knee and sound asleep.  Once could almost believe that Cremisius too was sleeping peacefully, but Dorian could smell the taint on him, the failure of his organs despite the anti-venom Stitches had administered and the best efforts of the healers.

Letting his vampire senses take over, the difference was even more profound, Bull’s strong, were blood called to Dorian, his body flushed red and healthy while Cremisius’ was already showing dark spots where blood was no longer flowing and bright red pools where there should be only thin moving lines.  There was no doubt in Dorian’s mind, the man was dying.

Sighing heavily, Dorian’s eyes locked onto the spot on the cot where Bull’s free hand was currently covering Krem’s own and knew what he had to do even though one or the other, if not both of them, might kill him once he’d done it.  Venhedis, this was starting to become a bad habit.

Kneeling by the cot, Dorian raised Cremisius’ free hand to his lips and, with one last concerned glance Bull’s direction, sunk his teeth deep into the man’s wrist.  Unlike with Evie or the fox, there was no pleasure to be gained from Cremisius’ blood.  Even the taste was off, far too acidic on the tongue instead of a pleasant heavy metallic tang.  Luckily, as with Evie, it only required the scarcest bit of his blood to allow Dorian’s numbing agent to enter his veins and begin spreading.

Unlike with Evie, Dorian sat patiently and waited for several minutes before moving forward, both because despite his injuries, Cremisius wasn’t currently bleeding out all over him and because he couldn’t be certain how quickly the agent was flowing through Krem’s sluggish veins.  It was only when he saw Cremisius’ breathing become labored that he feared any further waiting might be detrimental and with a resigned sigh, he tore into his own wrist and forced his blood into the warrior’s mouth.

While Cremisius appeared healthier on the outside than Evie had, the man took far more of Dorian’s blood before he began to show signs of stirring, his eyes finally beginning to move restlessly beneath their lids even as his lips applied gentle suction to the wrist Dorian had torn open more times than he could count.

Letting his eyes skim over Cremisius’ body once more, Dorian found that the dark spots were almost gone and even the pools of blood seemed to be shrinking, a sure sign that the warrior was on the mend.  Not bothering to start his own blood flowing again when it stopped this time, Dorian only realized just how much he had given Cremisius when he stood and almost fell to the ground, only his staff keeping him from crashing to his knees.

Kaffas, he was in no condition to deal with either man at the moment, a fact that only meant the confrontation that was sure to come would be far worse when it happened.  Still, his sense of self-preservation was far too ingrained to dare passing out and leaving himself vulnerable to either man.  He really should start carrying a bottle of blood with him, damn what others thought.

Hurrying from the tent, Dorian was surprised to find the sky already tinged with the first pink threats of dawn and forced himself to move quicker as he ascended the stairs towards the great hall, from there making his way through the Chantry courtyard to the haven his room provided.

 

Bull knew the minute he woke that Dorian had been in the room, the vampire’s unique scent still hanging heavy in the air.  Frowning even as his inner wolf perked up, Bull scanned the small healing tent but found no sign of the vampire.  What possible reason could he have had in…

Everything in Bull stilled in an instant, his eye locking onto the drop of blood clinging to the corner of Krem’s mouth.  “He wouldn’t,” Bull rumbled, his chest vibrating with a growl as he reached for Krem’s arm.  Turning his second’s hand over, Bull saw the two telltale raised bumps that proved that Dorian Pavus actually _would_.  “I’m going to kill him,” Bull roared, surging to his feet and storming from the healing tent.

The soft light of morning held no appeal for him, his entire body attuned to following Pavus’s scent as it wound first up the stairs to the upper courtyard then all the way into the great hall.  Ignoring the handful of pampered nobles that seemed to occupy the hall at all hours, Bull flung open the door to the Chantry gardens, and stalked down the hallway rather than enter the gardens themselves as Pavus’ scent grew stronger.  Once through the door into living quarters he hadn’t even been aware of, Pavus’ scent was so strong that Bull didn’t even have to hesitate before turning left just in time to see a door closing.  Hurrying towards the fourth door on the right, Bull’s fist slammed down on the wood hard enough to send the echoes of the knock ricocheting off the walls in both directions.

“Fasta vass, what is…”

Bull struck as soon as the door unlatched, one huge palm slamming the door open so hard it bounced off the wall and would have struck Dorian if Bull hadn’t already grabbed the vampire by the throat and shoved him across the room.  Claws sprouted and curled into the soft skin of Dorian’s neck…so very easy to snap if his answers displeased Bull.  His words, though barely a whisper, were slowly spoken and laden with threat.   _What did you do to him?”_

Dorian’s hand curled around Bull’s wrist, the vampire’s grip deceptively strong even before Bull felt the push of magic that preceded his wrist being enveloped in ice.  His grip loosened on Dorian’s throat just enough for the vampire to hiss, “I saved his life, you fool.”

Bull shook Dorian, lifting the vampire off his feet as he leaned close enough that his nose brushed against Dorian’s.  “What is it you want out of this?  Your kind always wants something, so what is it?  I won’t let you use him.”

“Vishante kaffas, not everything is about you or even about me.  Sometimes…sometimes it’s about…doing the right thing.  About trying to right a wrong even if you weren’t the one that caused it.”  Dorian’s voice got progressively quieter as he went, from a fierce hiss to an almost embarrassed squeak, his eyes hardening as he finished.  Almost the same instant Bull felt the pull of magic brush across his skin he found himself flying through the air until it was he who was slamming into a wall.

Shaking his head, he crouched, his change pushing at him even as the wolf within pleaded with him to stop this madness.  Then, before he could leap towards Dorian he found himself frozen in place, powerless to do anything but watch as Dorian walked slowly towards him only to slip past him at the last moment.  Behind him, Bull could hear the door opening and then Dorian was speaking, his voice sad and tired, “I think it’s best if you leave now, Bull.  Go to Cremisius and tell him I apologize for saving his life without his consent.  I could say that I had no choice but there is always a choice and I made it.  I hope that it was the right one.”

When Dorian finished speaking, Bull felt his muscles free and spun to find the vampire staring as though he still expected Bull to attack, a fireball balanced preemptively on his fingertips.  The warning was clear and as furious as Bull was, Dorian was right about one thing, Krem was alive and he would most likely be waking soon and it shouldn’t be to find himself alone in a healer’s tent.  He could deal with Pavus later.

Bull could hear them long before he reached the healing tents, the sounds of their voices, their laughter, soothing his frayed nerves far more than any healing balm ever could.  Slowing his steps, he forced several deep breathes through his lungs before making the final turn into the doorway of the healing tent to find all of the Chargers who had been with him the longest surrounding a now wide awake Krem.

His second’s eyes met Bull’s own the moment he filled the doorway.  “Chief! There you are!”

“Morning, Kremsicle.  Thought you were gonna sleep forever, princess.”

“Awww, Chief…” Krem muttered, quickly drowned out as the rest of the Chargers laughed loudly.

Bull leaned lightly against the center pole of the tent, listening as the team resumed their conversations around him, letting them settle him further.  It was only when he noticed Krem covertly brushing his thumb against the two small raised bumps left by Dorian’s fangs that Bull finally straightened.  “Ok you lot, time to clear out.”

“But, Chief…”

“Save it for someone who cares,” Bull told them with a grin, motioning for them all to leave.  “Go on, Krem’s still recovering and I can’t hear myself think with all this noise.”

“Yes, Chief,” the group grumbled, reluctantly rising from their spots around Krem’s bedside and filing out of the tent.

When Krem opened his mouth to speak, Bull raised one finger to forestall him, cocking his head and listening to the boisterous group move past the tent and up the stairs before dropping onto the stool he’d occupied the night before.

Instead of speaking immediately, Krem’s own eyes dropped to those two raised welts, running a finger over each of them again before looking up at Bull, his expression caught firmly between surprise and fear.  “He did it, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”  Bull spit out the one word before he could convince himself otherwise, the rest coming slower.  “I’m sorry, Krem.  I should have been awake, should have known he’d take advantage and…”

“I was going to die wasn’t I?” Krem interrupted, his attention once more riveted on the visual reminder of Dorian’s actions.

“We don’t know…”

Krem’s head shot up, his eyes sharp as he growled out, “Don’t lie to me, Chief.  I was going to die, wasn’t I?”

Bull sighed, dragging a tired hand over his face.  “I think so.  I hoped…we all did, but you smelled wrong…off.   _He_ says you were dying.”

Krem fell silent, his head dropping forward once more.  Bull was starting to worry when he heard the barely spoken whisper.  “Why would he do that?”

“Honestly, I’m not certain.  He said…”

“He saved me even after I burned him.  Shit, aside from apologizing I don’t think I’ve ever actually spoken a word to him,” Krem continued as though Bull had never spoken.  “Vampires aren’t like that, are they, Chief?  None I’ve ever met would have…it just doesn’t make sense.”

Bull couldn’t help thinking that that pretty much summed up Dorian Pavus.  With a shrug, Bull echoed Dorian’s words from earlier.  “He said it was the right thing to do.  He also said he apologizes if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Oh, yeah, cause ‘dead’ sounds so appealing,” Krem snorted, looking up at Bull briefly before swinging his legs off the cot.  “Shit, guess I better go thank…”

“You’d better keep your ass in that bed,” Bull grumbled, tugging on Krem’s shoulders until the man was forced to lie back down.

“But he saved my life, Chief.  No one but you has ever done something like that for me.  He deserves…”

“Shit, Krem.  If you’ll stay put I’ll go thank him for you myself.  That make you happy?”

Krem sighed heavily and relaxed back against the cot.  “Yeah, Chief.  It’s a start.”

Bull rolled his eye and sighed heavily as he stood, only the upward tilt of his lips belying his mock annoyance.  “I swear, the things I do for you.”

“You love me and you know it,” Krem grinned, waiting until Bull reached the doorway of the tent to add, “oh, and Chief? Be nice.”

Bull settled for flipping Krem off and began retracing his steps towards Dorian’s room, his progress far slower this time as he thought about Krem’s words.  There was no doubt Bull was still angry at Dorian for choosing to force a bond, even a weak one, on Krem without Krem’s approval, but he could hardly argue with the end results.  As much as it pained Bull to think about, he had fallen asleep by Krem’s bedside the night before fully intending to be present for his lieutenant’s last breaths and now, if Dorian was to be believed, Krem had the rest of his life to look forward to.  

 _His actions harmed him,_ the wolf chuffed, forcing Bull to remember just how tired Dorian had looked when he’d thrown Bull out, how his fingers had trembled as they controlled the flame.  At the time he had thought the vampire was trembling from rage, but what if the wolf was right.  Memories of the way Dorian had collapsed in the snow after healing the Boss flooded Bull’s mind, his steps quickening as he moved through the Chantry gardens.

Bull’s knock at Dorian’s door was once again loud enough to echo down the hallway, his actions spurred not by anger this time but by concern.  When the vampire didn’t answer, Bull knocked again, even louder.  “Dorian!  You in there?”

 _He is, we can smell him_ , the wolf insisted as if Bull himself didn’t know that.  “Damn it, Dorian, open up,” Bull growled, beating on the door once more but still getting no reply.

Staring at the heavy door, Bull debated his options.  He knew the wolf was right, Dorian was in there, the question was whether the mage was simply ignoring him or if something was truly wrong.  The thought alone was enough to draw a low whine from the wolf, and with a resigned sigh, Bull grasp the door handle and set his shoulder to the door.  Well, he supposed if it was just Dorian in a pique Bull could simply apologize, he probably owed the vampire one anyway.

Shoving hard at the door, Bull stumbled a few steps when it swung easily in his hand rather than being locked as he’d expected.  The fire that had been burning during his earlier visit had banked down to red coals, leaving the only light in the room that which came from the hallway.  Luckily, Bull’s night vision was far superior to a normal human’s and he quickly found the mage, collapsed in a small heap next to the bed.

“Shit, Pavus,” he muttered, hurrying to the mage and dropping to his knees beside him.  A hand placed in front of the vampire’s mouth showed he was still breathing but when Bull listened for a heartbeat it was faint and inconsistent.

Ignoring the wolf’s near incessant whining, Bull scooped Dorian up in his arms and laid him out on the bed before turning his attention to the candles that littered the bedside table.  Lighting them quickly, Bull gasped softly as their light reached the vampire and laid bare the dark circles beneath Dorian’s eyes, a stark contrast to how pale the rest of Dorian’s skin seemed.

“Shit, Dorian, what’d you do to yourself?” Bull muttered, the words hanging in the air like an accusation.  Because Bull knew what Dorian had done.  He’d healed Krem…then he’d come back to his room to rest and Bull had confronted him, forced him to weaken himself further by using his magic to keep from being beaten for saving a man’s life.

“Veshedan,” Bull growled, frustrated in equal parts by his own actions and the annoying vampire who lay before him that apparently had no concept of his own limitations.

Resigned to the only course of action open to him, Bull pulled his knife from his belt and used it to slice through the veins on his wrist.  Wincing as the blade struck deep and true, Bull raised his wrist to Dorian’s lips.

The moment the first drop hit Dorian’s tongue, the vampire shifted, moaning, his silver eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again.  “Dorian,” Bull whispered, shaking the man’s shoulder.

“Kaffas, leave me be,” Dorian muttered, his tongue darting out to lick Bull’s blood from his lips.  Eyes flying open this time he shoved away from Bull as though he expected to be struck, in all honesty, he probably did.  “No, no I can’t.”

“It is freely offered,” Bull assured him, surprised to find that he wasn’t lying.

Still, Dorian refused, shaking his head.  “My pack, by the door,” Dorian muttered, fluttering his hand in that direction.

Licking the blood from his own wound, Bull made his way towards the mentioned pack, digging inside and coming up with a leather wrapped bottle full of a thick fluid.   _Hurry, hurry_ , the wolf urged, driving Bull back to Dorian’s side where he quickly curled an arm around Dorian’s back and helped the vampire to sit before pulling the cork from the bottle.

Immediately the thick metallic scent of blood flooded Bull’s system, Dorian’s hand weakly reaching for the bottle as the vampire scented it too.  Unwilling to risk the blood spilling, Bull himself guided the bottle to Dorian’s lips, unable to look away as the vampire’s fangs extended the moment he began to drink.   _It is good_ , his wolf insisted, settling down with a pleased chuff as Bull relaxed against the headboard, retaining his hold on Dorian as he fed.  Bull was surprised to find he agreed with him.


	8. Colossally Bad Ideas

Dorian startled at the knock on his door.  It had been two days since he’d bade Bull an awkward goodbye after the were had attempted to give Dorian his own blood, and Dorian had repaid him by falling asleep on Bull’s chest as though he were a child.  Kaffas, he was fairly certain there had even been drool involved, though The Iron Bull had been so quick to disappear once Dorian woke up that he couldn’t be certain.

Another strong knock told Dorian whoever it was wasn’t going to go away and with an annoyed little snort, Dorian rose and headed towards the door.  Sliding back the bolt, his eyes widened when he found Cremisius standing on the other side.  Surprised himself, the warrior froze with his hand raised to knock again, every muscle in his body taut for a moment as he processed the fact that the door was actually opened before lowering his hand and awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The pair stared at each other for several long moments before Dorian finally tucked his head slightly, leaning it against the door.  “May I help you?”

Cremisius shook his head, an embarrassed grin pulling at his lips as his eyes lowered.  “Shit, yeah, uhm,” Cremisius began, hesitating only long enough to square his shoulders and look back up at Dorian.  “So, listen I just wanted to say thanks for you know, letting me not-die and all.  Anyway, the Chargers are having drinks in the tavern tonight and I wanted you to join us.  Figure the least I owe you is a beer.”

Dorian’s fingers bit into the door in an effort to contain his surprise.  It was an unexpected gesture but after the awkward way things ended with Bull...“I appreciate the offer, Cremisius, but I’m not so certain it would be a good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s just Krem,” the warrior corrected with a wince.  “And what’s not good about it?  The boys, beer, maybe a couple ‘thank you’s directed your way.”

“Yes, well, that does sound delightful…”

“Good, then you’ll…”

“But I’m assuming Bull will be there?”

“The Chief?  Yeah, of course,” Krem agreed quickly, only to pause and study Dorian critically for a moment.  “Why?  Did the Chief say something the other day?  Damn it, I told him to come thank you not give you shit.”

“No, no, Bull was…” _Perfect.  Considerate.  Warm._  “…fine.”

Krem broke into a wide grin and reached out to slap Dorian on the shoulder.  “Good, then we’re all set.  I’ll see you in the tavern tonight.  First round’s on me.”

 _This was a bad idea.  No, scratch that, it was a colossally bad idea,_ Dorian told himself as he stood outside the tavern later that night.  There was a reason that Dorian had spent most of his time in Haven in his cabin after all and that reason was simple…people didn’t like him.  Oh, it had seemed as though the Templars he was training with had begun to tolerate him, but then Haven had fallen to one of Dorian’s own countrymen and he had again found himself a pariah.  Then again, there was little doubt Krem knew Dorian wasn’t well liked and he’d invited him anyway.  To back out now would be terribly rude.  Alright then, one drink, perhaps two.  How difficult could it be?

Decision made, Dorian quickly reached for the door, pushing it open before he could second guess himself.  The raucous noise of the bar poured out the door into the quiet terrace.  Far larger than the small bar in Haven, the Herald’s Rest boosted two floors of tables each one surrounded by members of the Inquisition, about half of whom stopped to stare the moment Dorian stepped foot into the building which cut the noise level by a third.  They might as well have fallen completely silent for the way it made Dorian feel put on the spot, freezing him one foot in the door as he tried to remember why exactly he’d thought this was a good idea.

“Dorian!” Dorian looked up to find Krem balancing on the back of a chair near a table in the far corner of the room.  Any chance to leave now squashed, Dorian reluctantly pushed forward, trying to ignore the stares that seemed to be accumulating as he wound his way through the tables towards where he could now see the Chargers were all gathered.

He was mildly surprised to find that the only open seat when he reached the table was next to The Iron Bull rather than Krem.  Well, technically Bull sat at the head of the table and Dorian would be taking the seat to his right while Krem sat to Bull’s left.  Either way, Dorian was feeling decidedly nervous as he slipped into the empty chair under Bull’s watchful eye.

Before Dorian could feel too uncomfortable a barmaid dropped a fresh batch of tankards onto the table, the Chargers leaping into action as they each scrambled for a drink.  Krem nodded at the rapidly disappearing tankards.  “Grab one fast, Dorian, before Rocky gets greedy and steals yours too.”

“Rocky?” Dorian queried only to be slapped on the shoulder by the dwarf sitting to his right.

“Yep, that’s me,” the dwarf shouted cheerfully, slamming one of the full tankards down in front of Dorian.  “Gotta say we appreciate what you did for Krem.”

 _Kaffas, had the man told them all?_  “Yes, well…what else was a person to do?” Dorian muttered awkwardly, hiding his discomfort behind taking a large drink of ale, only to shiver as it went down.  Fasta vass, that was bad.

Another slap on his back, this time from the other side made Dorian look up into a grinning Bull’s face.  “Yeah, Cabot’s brew’ll put hair on your chest,” the were chuckled, his one silver eye shining.

Dorian snorted.  “Is that because it’s one of the main ingredients?”

Bull laughed, the sound of it drawing another shiver out of Dorian that thankfully went unnoticed by the rest of the table.  Kaffas, it really was a shame the man disliked him, when he smiled Bull was actually quite attractive.

Dorian had barely had time to wonder where in the world that thought had come from when Krem once again commanded his attention so he could race through an introduction with the rest of the Chargers.  Struggling to commit the flood of names to memory, Dorian was pleased to find that the Chargers seemed happy to continue their own conversations without expecting too much from him.  A fact that left Dorian to sip at his beer with a little grin as he listened to Rocky argue with Stitches over whether it would be possible to create an explosive that could be added to food.

Chuckling softly to himself as he wondered why in the Maker’s name anyone would _want_ to, Dorian was so focused on the conversation going on next to him that he almost missed the words being spat out in a quiet whisper behind him.  

“Don’t know what he’s doing here with us normal folks anyway.”

“Got the ‘Quisitor under a spell, ‘e does.”

“Well, someone…”

The conversation broke off suddenly as Bull’s low growl echoed through the room, prompting even the Chargers’ silence as they all looked toward their leader.  Like a candle that burnt out, Bull’s growl stopped as soon as it started, the larger man grinning broadly at his team.  “What?  I’m a thirsty man and I’m out of beer.”

“You know, you could just go get it yourself, Chief,” Stitches offered from down the table.

“Naw, that’s what I have you lot for,” Bull countered, tossing a small pouch of coins towards his medic who just stared at him for a moment before backing down.

“Fine, I’m going, come on, Grim,” Stitches sighed, nudging at the silent man’s shoulder until he stood and followed Stitches towards the bar.

Conversation resumed around Dorian, this time Krem telling some story about Bull and a dress in the Anderfels, but the damage was done and even when Stitches dropped a fresh drink in front of Dorian he couldn’t enjoy the evening.  Oh, he smiled and nodded his head at all the right times, took a drink of ale when he felt like he couldn’t handle the stares for another moment, but inside he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which is why, when he was listening to Dalish insist for the third time that her staff was actually a bow, Dorian wasn’t actually surprised when an entire tankard of ale ended up sloshing down the backside of his robes.  In an instant every Charger was on his or her feet, Krem looking like he was a heartbeat away from leaping over the table while Bull resumed his earlier growling.  Dorian was slow to rise, his hands raised in placation.  “It’s alright, no harm done.  I’m sure it was an accident.  I’ll just…go…change that is, yes, a change would be good.  If you’ll excuse me.”

Bull watched as Dorian turned and fled from the tavern as though a pack of fear demons was on his tail.  This time he didn’t need the wolf to tell him that following the vampire was the right thing to do, he felt it with every inch of his body.  Still, there was something that needed to be done first.

Pushing away from the table, Bull wasted no time stepping up to the table right behind where Dorian had been sitting.  Leaning forward, he spread his hands out against the table, his fingers almost spanning the width of it, as he stuck his head right between the two men sitting there.  “You’re Cullen’s men, right?”

When they failed to respond fast enough, Bull raised one of his hand and slammed it down on the table hard enough to send both their drinks crashing to the floor.  The entire tavern stilled.  “I asked you a question,” Bull growled, the words rumbling from him as his claws extended and scored neat lines in the stained wood.

Both men jumped, then swallowed hard.  “Yes, ser.”

“Funny, I don’t remember either of you being the one who brought the Inquisitor in out of the storm.”

“Uhm…”

“Not to mention he was here as the Chargers’ guest tonight because he saved my second’s life.  Either one of you got a problem with that?”

Both men shook their heads.  “No…ser.”

Bull retracted his claws and straightened.  “Krem!”

“Yes, Chief!”

“Make sure Cullen knows what happened here tonight.”

“ _Yes_ , Chief!  My pleasure.”

“Thanks, Krem,” Bull muttered with a little nod of his head before setting off to find Dorian.

 

Walking down the hallway towards Dorian’s room, Bull couldn’t help but feel that tracking down the vampire was starting to become a habit.  Surprisingly, that thought wasn’t nearly as disturbing as it would have been only weeks ago.  Raising his hand, Bull knocked softly.

“Fasta vass, just go away,” he heard Dorian call out.

“Yeah, not gonna do that.”

“I assure you I am fine.”

“Then you won’t mind opening the door.”

“Vishante kaffas,” Bull heard Dorian mutter before falling silent once again.  A moment later Bull heard the lock being thrown and then he was fairly certain all the air in the hallway disappeared.  At least none of it made its way into Bull’s lungs as he stood there, staring at the vision of Dorian Pavus silhouetted in firelight...wearing only a tight pair of leathers.

Blinking slowly, Bull took in the expanse of copper skin that was exposed to his view, from the breadth of the vampire’s chest to the well-defined muscles that were covered by a thin line of dark hair leading down to the laces on his leathers.   _You were wrong_ , his wolf practically purred, _he isn’t pretty, he’s stunning._

“As you can see, I haven’t melted or fallen into hysterics,” Dorian said with a flick of his hand to indicate he was whole and hearty, as if Bull could have possibly missed seeing that.  “ It wasn’t exactly the first drink that’s been poured on me.”

Bull didn’t even realize he was growling until Dorian arched a brow at him.  Forcing himself to stop he gave Dorian a sheepish grin.  “Sorry.  It just pisses me off…”

Dorian shrugged.  “It’s not like my people haven’t done all those things they accuse me of.”

“You aren’t your people,” Bull grumbled, the wolf still growling softly over the whole situation.

Dorian bit back a sharp laugh.  “Funny.  I never thought that would be something I’d hear from you.”

“Yeah, well, I can admit when I’m wrong,” Bull stammered, looking up and down the hall before adding, “so, think this is a conversation we could have in your room?”

Dorian’s laughter this time was bright and went a long way toward soothing Bull’s wolf.  “Maker, it sounded like you just invited yourself into my bedroom.”

Yeah, he supposed he had, Bull acknowledged with a chuckle as Dorian stood back and ushered him into the room.

Unlike Bull’s prior visits, this time there were candles lit on every flat surface in the room, providing plenty of light in addition to the warm fire that was burning in the hearth.  Motioning Bull towards a pair of high-backed chairs near the fireplace, Dorian moved off in the other direction.  “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Bull’s wolf whined in disappointment when Dorian rejoined him a moment later, the vampire’s tempting skin now covered by a thin cotton tunic.  Refusing to admit that he too felt the loss, Bull focused on watching the flames flickering in the fireplace as Dorian took the seat opposite him before asking, “So, what exactly did you want to discuss?”

Bull froze.  Because really, he had no fucking idea.  All he’d known is that those bastards had driven Dorian away and he was pissed and he had to make certain Dorian was ok and until he was certain of that he didn’t want to leave.

Dorian’s eyes narrowed as the silence stretched out between them and Bull knew he needed to say something.  “Why don’t you have a coven?”

Shit.  Not that.  Why in Koslun’s name did he say  _that_?  “I mean, most of the vampires I encountered in Seheron _had_ a coven so I just thought…”

Dorian remained silent for so long Bull had begun to think he wasn’t going to answer.  Then, when the vampire finally did, Bull almost wished he hadn’t.  “Felix.  Well, Felix and Alexius at one time…they were mine but they’re gone now.”

Bull ran his hand down the length of his horn, nervously.  “Damn, sorry, Dorian.  I didn’t…”

“No, it’s fine.  It’s just…difficult,” Dorian admitted, plucking nervously at the frayed edge of his tunic as he stared into the fire.  “Gereon was more than just my mentor.  He took me in when Father…well, when staying at home was no longer possible.  I owed him everything and I was forced to betray him.”

“Alexius was the one who chose to side with Corypheus not you, Dorian.  He would have torn the world apart.”

“Yes, well, there is that,” Dorian scoffed, giving Bull a soft smile.  “Still, everything considered, I think I’m better off on my own for awhile.”

Bull’s wolf whined sadly, an emotion Bull could fully embrace.  “You know, you’re not really…”

Bull broke off as Dorian stood suddenly and moved towards the door.  “I hate to be a poor host but I’m afraid this evening has left me rather worn.  Do you think we might continue this another time?”

Afraid of breaking the fragile friendship that seemed to be growing between them, Bull stood and followed Dorian, pausing once he stood in the doorway.  “You know, I felt the same as you when I left Seheron.  I had lost my entire pack over there and was sure I was meant to be alone for the rest of my life.  Then one day I walked into a bar and there was this man being bothered by a squad of troops and rather than back down he just took them all on and, well, I’ve always had a thing for the underdog.  Lost my eye that day but gained the start of a new pack.”

“The Chargers are lucky to have you, Bull,” Dorian whispered, his eyes not quite meeting Bull’s.

“And when you’re ready, you’ll find a coven worthy of you,” Bull responded, unsurprised when the door closed behind him without any further response.


	9. Desperate Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the one that earned the fic the graphic description of injuries tag as well as the suicide attempt tag. While it is an important chapter for the progression of the story, it can certainly be skipped if either of those things are potentially triggering for you...

Bull climbed the two flights of stairs to the great hall, pausing just inside the enormous doors to take in his first look of the hall now that all the reconstruction efforts had been completed.  He had to admit, with the crumbling masonry repaired and covered with flags and draperies bearing the Inquisition’s mark and the scaffolding being replaced with long banquet tables currently occupied by nobles from several different kingdoms, it was really beginning to look like a place fit for the head of the Inquisition.

“Tiny!  When’d you get back?” Varric’s voice boomed out as the dwarf hurried over to greet him.  “Good to see ya.”

“Thanks, Varric,” Bull grinned, shaking the other man’s hand even though his wolf was already urging him to move on.  The wolf had been that way for the entire month they’d been gone, whining at first about leaving Skyhold without Dorian then whining in anticipation of getting back.  The only thing explanation Bull could think of was that the beast had decided Dorian was pack.

“How’d things go in the Wilds?”

“Too much green, too many Red Templars,” Bull grumbled.

“Shit, Tiny.  Only you’d complain of things being too green,” Varric laughed.

 _Too hard to march through, too many opportunities for ambush, too much like Seheron,_ is what Bull wanted to say, but Varric was a quick one and Bull didn’t particularly care to show up as a character in his next novel.  Settling for a little shrug, Bull tilted his head towards the nobles.  “Picked up some new recruits while I was gone.”

“Yeah, Josie’s over the moon about ‘em,” Varric chuckled.  “Started showing up a few weeks ago, not long after you and the Chargers left.”

Bull nodded, his attention caught up with searching for a familiar face among the sea of masks and high collars.

“If you’re looking for Sparkler, he isn’t there.”  Yeah, like Bull said…a quick one.

Another shrug, this time far harder to keep carefree.  “Who says I’m looking for anyone?”

Varric’s laugh was far deeper this time.  “Tiny, you haven’t _stopped_ looking since you came in the door.”

Bull could only hope his blush wouldn’t be visible by torchlight.  Shit, and what was that anyway?  He wasn’t really the blushing sort.  “Yeah, well,” he stammered, growling softly at himself even as he ran his hand nervously over his horn.  “You gonna tell me where he is or what?”

Another chuckle from the dwarf…yeah Bull could get sick of those, then Varric took pity on him.  “He and her Inquisitorialness left about a week ago.  Something personal she said though I didn’t think she had any family nearby so I’m not sure…”

“Yeah, ok, thanks,” Bull muttered, the wolf already making his displeasure known.  “Think I’m gonna turn in, it’s been a long day.”

“Sure thing, Tiny.  It really is good to have ya back.”

Bull nodded in response and made his way back out of the keep and towards the room he’d claimed for himself.  He paused for a minute as he passed the tavern, debating on going in and joining the boys for a drink.  He had little doubt they’d be celebrating both the successful mission and being back somewhere civilized enough to _have_ a tavern for the better part of the night.  But if he’d been obvious enough in his desire to see Dorian that Varric noticed there was little chance of fooling Krem and Bull was too fucking tired to deal with the ribbing he was sure would follow.

He’d celebrate with the boys tomorrow, he decided, continuing on towards the stairs that would lead to his room.  And if he ended up awake far longer than he should have been because he’d been dwelling on what possible ‘personal matter’ Dorian and the Boss could be dealing with, well, that was no one’s business but Bull’s.

 

 

“Shit,” Bull snarled, shaking his head to clear it before raising his hand to his chin and pulling it away wet with blood from where Krem’s shield had clipped it when it bounced off Bull’s own shield.

“Sorry, Chief,” Krem muttered as he settled back into an attack stance.

“Not your fault, Krem.  I wasn’t paying attention,” Bull shrugged.  “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

Didn’t sleep at all was more like it.  Which was really fucking annoying because he’d been sleeping his entire life without having to know Dorian Pavus’ whereabouts so why did it seem so damned important now?

“You want to call it, Chief?”

“Nice try, Krem Puff,” Bull laughed, raising his shield and smacking it with the flat of his palm.  “Come…”

Bull’s next words were drowned out by the sound of the scout’s horns announcing the Boss’s arrival.  Bull found himself willing for once to be part of the crowd that drifted closer to the edge of the upper courtyard, the wolf within yipping excitedly when he finally caught sight of Dorian’s dark blue cloak as the vampire rode into the lower courtyard at the Boss’s side.

Sighing softly in relief, Bull suddenly felt every one of the forty some odd hours he’d been awake and with a firm clap of his hand on Krem’s shoulder he muttered, “Think I will take that pass after all, Krem.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Krem grinned up at him.  “I’ll be sure to beat the boys up for you.”

Bull laughed as he turned and headed towards his room, every step both feeling like he was walking through knee deep mud and like something he hadn’t even been aware of missing had been returned.  The fact that only one thing had changed told him that he should know exactly what that ‘something’ was but that was a problem for later, Bull decided, dropping into bed with an exhausted sigh.

 

It felt like Bull had barely closed his eyes when he was startled awake by the door flying open and slamming into the wall beside it.  Instinctively grabbing his hand axe off the table as he rolled off the far side of the bed to land in a crouch, he was surprised to find the Boss standing in the doorway, hair flying wildly in every direction and panic etched on her face.  “Bull!  Come quick!  I need you!”

Straightening, Bull dropped the axe back on the bedside table.  “Shit, Boss, I could have killed you.”

“You don’t understand,” she bit out, ignoring the fact he’d even spoken.  “It’s Dorian…he’s missing.”

They just got back, how could he be missing?  Bull’s entire body shifted forward as the wolf within surged to its feet, instantly alert.  “I don’t understand, Boss, what’s going on?”

The Boss snatched at his hand as soon as Bull got within reach, dragging him from the room as she began to speak.  “I knew he was upset, he has been ever since he found out it was his father we’d gone to meet but I thought being back in Skyhold would help.  That maybe things would get back to normal but he still sounded off when I left him in the great hall so I went to check on him but he wasn’t in his room.”

“Dorian doesn’t spend all his time in his room, Boss,” Bull chuckled, slowing his steps slightly as he began to think this ‘emergency’ was turning into something far less pressing.

“I know that,” the Boss snapped, yanking his arm hard in an attempt to make him move faster.  “But when I checked the great hall again Varric said he hadn’t been back through since he’d entered with me and I checked the Chantry garden and the mage’s tower and…damn it, Bull, you don’t understand.  Whatever Dorian’s father said was bad…bad enough that Dorian stormed out of the Gull and Lantern like Corypheus himself was chasing him.”

She broke off then, pausing for a moment at the top of the first flight of stairs leading to the hall, then glancing around to make certain they were alone before adding, “When we got back to camp he threw every single bottle of blood he’d brought with him into the fire.  Something about it never being good enough.  I don’t know, Bull…”

“Alright, Boss, alright,” Bull whispered, patting her hand soothingly.  “We’ll find him, I promise.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bull worked to separate Dorian’s scent out from the rest of the complex mass of scents that lingered on the stairwell.  Thankfully, it was still fairly fresh, letting Bull open his eyes again and follow the scent up the remaining stairs and down the familiar path towards Dorian’s room.  As they entered the hallway however, Bull noticed that the scent continued on past Dorian’s door, toward a door he’d never paid much attention to at the far end of the hallway.

“Bull?” The Boss muttered from behind him as Bull attempted to open the door but found it blocked.

Drawing in another deep breath, he frowned.  Dorian had definitely been this way recently.  Setting his shoulder to the door, Bull growled, “I’ve got it Boss.”

Rocking back, Bull slammed his arm and shoulder into the door, convincing it to give an inch with a loud creak that showed a large crate had been shoved up against the door from the other side.  His wolf was practically clawing at him now, Bull’s own nose crinkling as Dorian’s rich, fresh scent was being overwritten by a smell he remembered too well from Seheron.

“Fuck, Dorian…no,” Bull growled, ramming into the door again and again, shoving the crate back inch by painful inch until he could finally cram his body through the opening.

There was no missing the vampire, aside from the crate he’d moved and a couple of others, Dorian was the only thing on the balcony.  Kneeling on the mosaic tiles, his hands laying against his thighs, naked but for a thin pair of linen pants.  Bull rushed towards Dorian, the wolf howling his denial at the sight of Dorian’s sun-ravaged body.  His beautiful bronze skin turned now mottled black and blood red, riddled with blisters both fresh and broken…

The Boss’s shocked gasp was swallowed by Dorian’s agonized cry as Bull scooped him up off the floor and raced back towards the door, rushing past where the Boss was standing with her hand to her lips.

“What have you done, Dorian? What were you thinking?” Bull murmured as he ran, hesitating only a moment when he reached Dorian’s doorway before raising his foot and kicking the door inward, allowing him to step through and lay Dorian as gently as possible on the bed.

Turning towards the dresser, Bull pulled drawer after drawer out, hoping to find a bottle of blood only to have those hopes dashed as each drawer yielded nothing more exciting than clothes.  “Damn it, Dorian…where do you keep it, you have to have…” Bull growled, more to himself than actually at Dorian, his search moving on to the bed tables then to a trunk that lay on the opposite side of the room but he could find no sign that Dorian had a stash of blood left.

 _“Fuck!”_ Bull roared, his hands curled into fists as he stormed back towards the bed, his expression softening as he took in the man who lay still as a statue on it, only the faint shifting of his chest even giving Bull hope he yet lived.

 _Ours_ , the wolf whimpered, a feeling Bull found echoed in his own heart and with a low growl he knew what had to be done.  And this time Dorian wouldn’t be stopping him.

Cupping one hand under Dorian’s neck, Bull cringed at the vampire’s pained whimper as he tilted Dorian’s head up then willed his own fangs to drop.  Swift and sure he tore into his own wrist, forcing it to Dorian’s lips.   “Come on, damn you,” Bull growled as the blood just poured down Dorian’s cheek, forcing Bull to shift the hand behind Dorian’s neck to encourage his mouth to open.

The moment blood hit Dorian’s tongue his fangs extended, drawing a pleased huff from Bull.  Squeezing his hand and relaxing it over and over, Bull forced blood to flow through his veins and out into Dorian’s mouth until finally the vampire’s senses took over enough that his mouth closed around Bull.

Gritting his teeth at the first bite of Dorian’s fangs into ravaged skin, Bull was thankful that the area soon went numb, leaving him to watch as the vampire’s body began to heal itself.  Bloody, open wounds beginning to knit themselves back together from the inside out, black charred skin flaking away as healthy, bronze-toned skin took its place.

“Bull?”

He looked up to find the Boss hovering in the doorway, concern etched in her features.  “S’ok, Boss,” he assured her, turning his attention back to the miraculous sight of Dorian’s body repairing itself.  “At least, it will be.”

“But Bull, he’s….you’re…” the Boss broke off, settling instead for waving her hands towards the point where Bull and Dorian were joined together.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Bull said sheepishly, giving Dorian another soft look. “Like I said, it’s okay.”

Bull had a feeling the Boss saw far more than he’d wanted her to see on his face, her eyes widening as her lips curled in a soft grin.  “Oh!   _Oh_ …okay.  I’ll just go then…yes, go...” she muttered awkwardly, turning around and almost running into the door.  “Shit…uhm…just let me know if you need anything?”

“Will do, Boss,” Bull chuckled, his attention immediately returning to Dorian when the vampire moaned his displeasure at being shaken.

“Yes, well…tell Dorian I forgive him, but I’m still angry. At him.  Damned fool,” the Boss grumbled, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Bull chuckled again, watching as a patch of reddened skin on Dorian’s cheek slowly regained its normal coloring.  “She’s right, you know…you are a foolish man.”

Bull was surprised to feel Dorian’s tongue lick across his wrist, he hadn’t even realized the vampire had stopped feeding.  Pulling his arm away he found the only signs of the damage he’d done to his own wrist were two small raised bumps where Dorian’s fangs had been.  Raising his head, Bull found himself looking into a pair of annoyed grey eyes.

“Should have let me die,” Dorian hissed, his words barely a whisper.

“That wasn’t going to happen,” Bull grumbled, a low, threatening growl rattling his chest.

Dorian smacked weakly at the broad expanse of muscle with the back of his hand.  “Yes, because you’re so scary now, looking like you’re about to fall over yourself.”

Bull frowned, only realizing that Dorian was right when he processed the vampire’s words.  Just how much blood had Dorian taken?  Looking longingly at Dorian’s bed, Bull’s eyes fell upon the dark splotches of blood on the blankets and with a little huff, shifted his hands so he could curl one arm behind Dorian’s back and the other behind his knees.

“What do you think yo…hey!” Dorian squawked as Bull lifted him from the bed easily and deposited him on top of the dresser.

“Stay put,” Bull grumbled, quickly stripping the blanket and sheeting from the bed before wadding them in a ball and tossing them in a pile outside the door.  Turning back to face the irritated vampire he demanded, “Spare bedding?”

Dorian waved towards the trunk Bull had gone through earlier and Bull nodded, remembering seeing sheeting in there.  He had the bed made back up in moments and quickly scooped Dorian back up and deposited him on the far side of the bed, leaving enough space for him to sit down and lean his back against the headboard.

Sighing as he sank down onto the soft mattress, Bull closed his eye for a moment, pleased that with the soiled bedding gone so was the worst of the burnt flesh smell.   _Veshedan_ , he was certain he’d never forget how that…

“Are you quite done now?” Dorian demanded, prompting Bull to crack open his eye and take in the annoyed vampire’s scowl.

“Enough that I’m willing to let you explain why you thought killing yourself was a good idea,” Bull shot back, crossing his arms over his chest in a copy of Dorian’s pose and scowling down at the smaller man.

Their contest of wills stretched out for what seemed like hours, though that might have just been Bull’s perception being skewed by lack of sleep and blood loss.  In the end, it was Dorian who broke their stalemate, turning his eyes away from Bull with a little huff in favor of staring at his hands.  When Dorian finally spoke his words were so softly spoken Bull was thankful for his enhanced hearing or he’d have never caught them.  “It wasn’t supposed to be him.  I never thought he’d actually come, you see. Too beneath him to retrieve the wayward son himself.”

“Your father?”

“Hum, yes, though I’m not certain if that still applies once one has been disowned,” Dorian muttered, trailing off in favor of watching his fingers twist together.

“Shit, Dorian, I’m sorry,” Bull whispered, picking up one of Dorian’s hands and cupping it gently.  Strange, he’d always thought Dorian was large for a human and yet his hand felt so small against Bull’s own.

Dorian startled when Bull grabbed his hand, but it was the vampire himself who slotted their fingers together, peering up at Bull and giving him a shy smile before turning his attention down once more.  “Yes, well, it’s not like it’s unexpected,” Dorian admitted, falling silent again for several minutes before finally continuing, “he asked me to come home, you know.  Well, more like ordered me to return with him and give up this, how did he put it, ‘foolish endeavor to become accepted by people who will never understand me at the expense of my own people’.  Apparently fighting against an insane would-be god who wants to destroy the world is an embarrassment to the family name.”

“Fuck him,” Bull growled, tightening his grip on Dorian’s hand.  “I mean really…just fuck him.”

Dorian chuckled darkly.  “Yes, quite well put.  I can’t really put all the blame on him, though.  He never quite recovered from being dismissed as the Archon’s consiliare because of my proclivities, and now…”

“Proclivities?” Bull questioned, surprised to see a faint trace of red rising on Dorian’s cheek.

The vampire sighed heavily.  “I prefer the company of men…”

“And that’s a problem?”  Bull asked.  Shit, he’d known ‘Vint’s were a tight-laced group, but…

“It is when you’ve been promised in marriage to another prominent family since birth.”

“Ah…I assume you refused to marry her.”

“Yes, selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.”

“Dorian…”  Bull whispered, his heart clenching at the pain he read in the vampire’s eyes when he looked up at him.

“He wanted to change me…make me acceptable.”

The way Dorian spit out the last word had Bull bristling.  “What exactly do you mean by ‘change you’?”

Again Dorian’s eyes darted away.  Fear that the vampire would stop speaking entirely kept Bull from saying anything…or wiping away the single tear that tracked down Dorian’s cheek.  “Father summoned me one night to his study.  Things had been…difficult…and so I went, hoping we would fight and get it out in the open so we could move on…I smelled it before I opened the door, I should have known…it just never occurred to me.  ‘Blood magic is the resort of the weak mind.’  Those were his _exact_ words.”

Bull found himself growling softly and swallowed hard, forcing himself to stop least Dorian think he was upset with him instead of on his behalf.

Dorian continued as though he hadn’t even heard Bull, lost in his own memory.  “I opened the door and almost gagged...even for a being who survives on blood, there was just so much of it.  Father’s men caught me while I was still processing what I was seeing…the bodies…” Dorian broke off then, looking up at Bull with tear-filled eyes.  “I had known some of those men my whole life.  Yes, they were slaves, but my _whole life_ , Bull and he killed them…killed them in an attempt to fix me.”

“Dorian…”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Dorian snorted out a deep breath and then opened his eyes, not turning from Bull but not quite looking up past his chest either.  “I dropped to my knees and they let me go, thinking I was accepting…that I would be ok with what he had planned.  As if I would just give up everything that made me _me_ because he wanted it.”

“They were idiots,” Bull chuffed.  “What did you do?”

“I…ran,” Dorian muttered with a little shrug.  “In some ways I don’t think I stopped running until I saw him standing there in the Gull and Lantern.  Does that make any sense?”

Bull didn’t know how to answer that, afraid that anything he could say would only cheapen the story Dorian had confided in him.  Understanding finally blossomed in Bull’s chest.  “That’s the reason you don’t feed from anyone isn’t it?”

Dorian nodded, once again looking at where their two hands were still twined together.  “I just can’t.  Anytime I try I remember standing there staring at the men my father slaughtered in my name.”

“I’m sorry, Dorian…”

The vampire startled.  “Kaffas, what on earth for?”

“For the things I said to you…the way I treated you when we first met, for the distrust I had in you even after you saved the Boss.”

Dorian snorted.  “I doubt you thought anything about me that isn’t true of my people.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Bull insisted, reaching out with his free hand to cup Dorian’s chin and tip the vampire’s face up.  “You are not your people, Dorian.”

“So you’ve said.” One side of Dorian’s mouth tilted up in a wry grin.  “Is that why you saved my life?”

Bull just stared at him for a moment.  “You know, for being a genius you really are an idiot.”

Dorian’s brow knit in a frown, his lips parting to speak and Bull found himself unable to resist tipping his head down and capturing Dorian’s mouth in a soft kiss.

He felt Dorian’s surprise, his body stiffening next to Bull’s for a moment before melting against him, Dorian’s mouth parting as his tongue darted out to lick at Bull’s lip.  Bull happily deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Dorian’s mouth, reveling in the sweet, rich taste that only Dorian possessed.

 _Ours_ , insisted the wolf.  

 _Yes_ , Bull echoed.   _Ours._


	10. Sun, Fun and Torture

Dorian stepped out of the tent, lured by the heat that clung to every surface of the Hissing Wastes even as the sun went down.  Stretching his arms up over his head, he tipped his face up towards the rapidly darkening sky and sighed happily.

“Damn, Sparkler, you look like a cat that’s been in the cream,” Varric teased from the far side of the campfire.

Dorian dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders, then tipped his head first to one side then the other before bothering to address the dwarf.  “I am warm for the first time since I stepped foot in the south, even you can’t ruin my mood, Varric.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sparkler, you looked plenty warm sitting on Bull’s lap the…” Varric broke off suddenly as Cassandra’s hand slapped over his mouth.

“Ignore him, Dorian,” Cassandra said with a small grin before staring pointedly at Varric.  “He talks too much.”

“Seeker, you wound me,” Varric sighed the moment Cassandra removed her hand.

“Ugh, I should be so lucky,” Cassandra grunted with a roll of her eyes.

“Ah, so you admit you think about me,” Varric grinned.

“Bah, _you_ should be so lucky…”

“Ignore them,” Evie whispered in Dorian’s ear, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“Are they always like this?” Dorian whispered back, strangely fascinated as the pair faced off.

He felt Evie’s shrug against his back.  “Only since we had a run in with Bianca…the real Bianca.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was one…”

“Yep, cute thing…devious as all get out though.  Seems like things between she and Varric aren’t quite as finished as he makes them out to be.”

“And that matters to Cassandra?”

“Apparently.  She and Varric have been fighting like cats and dogs ever since.”

“Interesting…”

“Isn’t it?”

“What’s the Charger’s betting pool up to?”

“Fifty gold last time I checked.”

“I’ve got to get into that when we get back.”

“You think they’ll last that long in the same tent?”

“You didn’t.”

“Cass snores and you don’t.”

“You are positively evil.”

“Why thank you,” Evie smirked.  “Now be quiet, you’re ruining the show.”

Dorian was still contemplating Evie’s deviousness as he lay on his bedroll later that night.  Evie had first watch so the tent was quiet and apparently even Varric and Cassandra had called a truce for the moment judging by silence that had descended over camp.  Dorian should have been sound asleep by now and yet here he was, lying there staring at the cream colored canvas…missing The Iron Bull.

Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone else, he’d rather tear out his tongue first, but he tried to keep the lying to himself to a minimum and the truth was, he missed the brash were far more than he’d thought he would.  The fact that he and Bull had spent the majority of their evenings together for the past two weeks probably didn’t help matters any.

Perhaps more surprising than the nights however were the moments in between.  Bull stopping by the nook in the library Dorian had claimed, bringing him one of the sweet rolls he knew Dorian loved.  Or that look Bull got when he looked up from training with Krem to find Dorian sitting nearby reading a book.  Kaffas, even, he supposed, the fact that just the night before Dorian had left for this trip he had finally gotten brave enough to let Bull pull him down onto his lap as they sat drinking with the Chargers in the tavern.  Dorian could almost still hear Bull’s pleased rumble in his ear, the way the larger man’s arms curled tightly around him as Dorian sank into his embrace.

Closing his eyes, Dorian focused on that feeling, on the way Bull’s skin was always so warm even on the coldest Skyhold night, the way Bull’s breath ghosted over Dorian’s shoulder as he sat there with Bull, the way his own heart rate had slowed until it matched with Bull’s…

 

 

“ _Your left, Seeker_ ,” Varric yelled, a bolt flying towards the Red Templar he’d warned Cassandra about only a second later.

Dorian spared the warrior a glance, throwing up a barrier before returning his attention to the Venatori archer he was currently fighting…just in time to twist out of the path of the arrow that was headed his way.  Twirling his staff over his head, Dorian slammed the bladed end to the ground, summoning a storm of ice to freeze his opponent, following up with a fireball that shattered the archer into a thousand pieces.

Snarling, his fangs extended, Dorian refreshed the barrier on Evie and Cassandra before turning to his next opponent.  Finding a rogue sneaking up on Varric he targeted the man and cast the spell to lay an ice rune a few steps in front of the bastard.  Varric grinned and tipped his head at Dorian in thanks as the rogue hunting him froze solid, then Varric moved closer to where Cassandra and Evie were battling one of the Red Templar horrors, his bolts adding to Evie’s arrows to help bring down the creature’s barrier and leave it vulnerable to Cassandra’s attacks.

Turning his attention back to the frozen rogue, Dorian summoned a barrage of lightning just as the rogue returned to his senses, his eyes darting around as he tried to determine where his target had gone.  Red, glowing eyes finally locked onto Dorian and the creature disappeared.  A shiver coursed down Dorian’s spine, knowing the rogue was hunting him and he raised his hand to apply a barrier to himself only to find himself flung forward to his knees by an attack from behind.

Shaking his head, Dorian spun to find a Red Templar Knight smirking down at him and before Dorian could so much as summon a fireball he felt his connection to the fade severed by a silence.  Snarling in anger, Dorian leapt, a creature of claw and tooth if not of magic.  Again, he was thrown back by a smite, crumbling to the ground when his legs refused to support him, his head pounding from the attack.  Forcing his eyes open, he watched as somehow the one Knight became two in his vision, both of them raising the pommel of their swords and bringing them down on his skull.

Dorian woke with a start, his entire body drenched with ice cold water.  Eyes snapping open, he found himself staring at a smirking Venatori mage.  “Ah, so good of you to join us, traitor.”

Dorian’s own lip curled in an answering smirk.  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

The mage’s eyes narrowed, his lips setting in a firm line as he raised his staff and shot a lightning bolt at Dorian’s chest.  “You will not speak unless asked a question,” the man growled as Dorian’s body shook, electricity coursing through his body to ground out against his metal bonds, his skin searing at the point of contact.

His body had barely sagged in the restraints, the seared skin splitting open as his weight pulled against it, before the other mage was in Dorian’s face, the sharp edge of the man’s staff blade scraping across the metal shackle that held Dorian’s left wrist in place.  “Such a shame I can’t just kill you, but I’m afraid there are those who believe even a traitor has a use,” the mage tsked, shaking his head slowly as he continued to pull his blade down, the tip of it jumping from the shackle to cut into Dorian’s burn ravaged skin.

Gritting his teeth so hard he was surprised they didn’t shatter, Dorian refused to give his captor the satisfaction of hearing him scream.  Rather than annoy the other mage though, Dorian’s determination only seemed to spur the man on, a vicious smile curling the man’s lips as he muttered what Dorian believed to be a fire spell and a moment later the blade at Dorian’s wrist burned red hot, searing closed the flesh it had just sliced open.

“Can’t have you bleeding out on me now can we?” the man taunted, taking one step back and spinning his staff once before setting the blade against the skin of Dorian’s right wrist this time.

Forcing his jaw to unclench, Dorian tried for a smirk but was afraid it came out more like a pained grimace.  “Is that one of the questions you want answered?”

The backhanded blow was swift and strong enough to send Dorian’s head snapping to the side, but Dorian forced his features blank as he straightened.  “I’ll take that as a no.”

With a low growl his captor struck him again, this time helping Dorian straighten his head back up by curling his hand in Dorian’s hair and yanking him upright, holding tightly on to him as he leaned in close enough to whisper in Dorian’s ear, “Disobey me all you want…I won’t give you the satisfaction of killing you, but it will certainly make things far more entertaining for me.”

Releasing Dorian, the mage spun away, taking several steps before turning to face him again.  Slamming the tip of his blade into the ground, he stood with both arms curled around the staff.  “Now, let’s try a real question why don’t we?  What is the Inquisitor doing in the Hissing Wastes?”

“She heard it was a fabulous vacation spot.”

Dorian felt the first shiver of true fear course through him at the feral grin his captor gave him before shifting his attention to someone behind Dorian and nodding his head.  Once more Dorian was drenched with water so cold it drew a gasp from him.  Before the sound had even cleared his lips there was another lightning bolt directed at him.

The Venatori mage’s laughter echoed through the room as Dorian’s body drew tight before collapsing against his bonds again.  “Oh, this _is_ going to be fun.”


	11. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI that the pic included in this chapter is mildly nsfw-ish...Both men are naked but only shown from the waist up.

“Excuse me, Iron Bull?”

Bull let his shield drop as he straightened, his eyes picking out Cullen’s messenger standing by the rest of the Chargers outside the training ring.  “Yeah?  Whatcha need?”

“Commander Cullen would like to see you in his office at your earliest convenience, Ser.”

“He say what it’s about?”

“No, Ser.  Just implied it was important.”

“Alright then, thanks,” Bull acknowledged with a nod of his head to the messenger before whistling at Grim and waving him into the ring.  Handing off his shield, Bull clapped Grim on the shoulder and chuckled, “Ok, Krem, see if you have any better luck moving Grim.”

“Yes, Chief,” Krem grinned, raising his own shield again and preparing to attack as Bull stepped out of the ring and headed towards the stairs to Cullen’s office.

Assuming Cullen had a job for he and the Chargers, Bull was already mentally going through the roster and thinking about who had been stuck in Skyhold the longest when he stepped into Cullen’s office and found Leliana resting against the corner of the Commander’s desk.  Hesitating just over the threshold, Bull scowled at the serious looks on both their faces as he forced himself to move far enough into the room that the door could close behind him.  “Heard you were looking for me.”

Surprisingly it Leliana who spoke first, her voice carefully devoid of any emotion.  “I have recently been made aware of a situation I believe might concern you, Bull.”

 _Yeah, nothing good ever ever came from a conversation starting like that_ , Bull thought with a frown, his mind racing to think of anything the boy’s might have done that was critical enough to come to the attention of the spymistress.  “Go on,” he offered, cautiously.

“I received a raven from the Inquisitor a short time ago…”

Bull’s wolf’s ears pricked up, his stomach beginning to turn as he struggled to keep his expression placid.

“…their party encountered a large group of Red Templars and at some point in the fight…”

 _No…no…no._  The wolf snarled, anticipating the woman’s next words.  Bull’s hands curled into fists, his claws threatening to break free of his skin.

“…Dorian was taken.  By the time the battle was over the only evidence of where he’d been was his staff, but the lack of blood at the site leads them to believe that he was captured alive.”

Taken, not dead.  Taken could be fixed.   _Would_ be fixed.  “Where are they?” Bull bit out through clenched teeth.

“There is a search ongoing…”

“ _Where the fuck are they_?” Bull bellowed, unable to stop the threatening growl that rocked his chest as he took a step towards the spymistress.

“I know you and Dorian are close, Bull,” Cullen offered, stepping forward to place himself between Bull and Leliana.

“You know _nothing_ ,” Bull growled, only barely holding back the change his wolf was forcing on him.

“Be reasonable, Bull.  It would take you almost a week to reach them.  It’s better to wait and…”

“He is **_mine_**!”  Bull roared, lunging forward and knocking Cullen to the side as though he were one of the wooden training dummies Cassandra was so fond of.  Curling his fingers around Leliana’s throat he shoved the spymistress back against the desk.  “Where…is…my…” Bull snapped his mouth shut, biting back the word he’d almost blundered by saying, before settling on a less incriminating one.  “…packmate?”

Leliana’s eyes flared briefly before narrowing shrewdly, leaving no doubt in Bull’s mind that she knew exactly what he’d been about to say.  Also of little doubt was that the dagger she currently had pressing at his ribs would slide home if he continued to threaten her.  “Release me, Bull.”

Bull blinked once, only belatedly realizing that Cullen had recovered and was currently reaching for his own sword.  Sighing heavily, Bull forced his fingers to uncurl, Bull raised both hands in placation before stepping back and turning to pace the length of Cullen’s office.  “Shit, I’m sorry, Red.  I didn’t…we haven’t… _shit_.”

 _Mate.  Really?_ _Had he really almost verbally claimed Dorian as his actual mate?_ His wolf woofed once, as sure a sign of ‘no shit you idiot’ as Bull had ever heard.  Stumbling to a stop Bull was forced to acknowledge that it was true.  Even if he hadn’t formally claimed Dorian, in his mind, his heart, Dorian was already his.  Running a shaking hand over his face he turned back towards the pair that was regarding him cautiously.  “I need to be there, Red.  If the weather holds I may be able to track him, even if it has been a week and if I can’t...well, I can’t just _wait_ …”

Leliana looked over at Cullen, an entire conversation occurring between the two with only the slightest of expression changes.  Surprisingly, it was Cullen who spoke.  “You need to work with the Inquisitor, Bull.  Nothing about this attack implied that it was rash, which means that both the Venatori and the Red Templars have enough troops in the area that they were comfortable taking a member of the Inquisition’s inner circle.”

“You got it, play nice,” Bull muttered, his wolf chaffing at the restriction even as he mentally swore that he’d break that promise in a heartbeat if it meant getting Dorian back.  “You need to accept that whoever has Dorian is a dead man, though.”

The smallest of smirks tilted Leliana’s lips.  “I would expect no less.”

Cullen moved to his desk, rummaging through the untidy stacks of paper to come up with a length of parchment that he quickly rolled and tied with a piece of string before offering it to Bull.   “Evie’s last camp is marked, as are the other scouting camps in the area if her camp is no longer occupied.”

“I’ll have your mount made ready and my agents will know to have fresh horses available to you wherever possible, Bull,” Leliana added.  “Good luck.”

Bull nodded his thanks, but his mind was already on what he absolutely needed to take with him…and how long it would be before he could taste the blood of those who’d dared to take what was his.

 

 

Bull frowned as he ran his hands over the remains of a campfire.  Cold.  But then he’d expected that the moment he’d come over the rise and found the small dead-end canyon empty.  Closing his eyes he focused on his sense of smell, snarling when he found no trace of Dorian’s scent.  Even the Boss’s crisp citrus scent was faded to such a degree Bull doubted they’d remained camped here for more than a night or two after Dorian was taken.

Straightening, Bull kicked at the ash, ignoring the way it billowed up and up, caught by the eddies of the wind that seemed to pull the very moisture from Bull’s skin.  Fucking Hissing Wastes, nothing but sand and death in every direction…Dorian had probably loved it.

Sighing softly, Bull turned towards his horse and pulled Cullen’s map out of the saddlebag.  Kneeling, he pressed it against the hot sand, hoping to keep it from tearing in the afternoon wind as he quickly located the closest Inquisition camp.  It wasn’t far, he could be there by sundown if he pushed his mount.

 

He’d almost been right, riding towards the mountaintop camp not long after the sun had set but by then he didn’t care.  He was late because a couple of hours ago he’d caught the Boss’s scent along with the acrid smell of sword oil he always associated with the Seeker and even traces of the parchment and leather scent he knew to be Varric.  He had shifted, leaving his mount behind long enough to determine what direction the group was traveling in before acknowledging it seemed to be the same general direction of the Inquisition camp and returning to his horse.

Now, reining in his mount, Bull frowned as a first glance around the campsite showed no sign of the three he’d been looking for.

“Bull!  Leliana said we might see you.”

“Lace, good to see you,” Bull greeted, not even having to feign his grin as the scout approached.  He liked Harding, she was competent, quick to offer ideas when she had them and just as content to stay quiet when she didn’t.  

“You looking for the Inquisitor’s party?”

Yeah, like Bull said, Harding was sharp.  Bull just nodded, waiting while Harding summoned one of the other scouts to come and take Bull’s mount away.

“They left this afternoon.  Got a lead on a camp to the north that’s had some unusual activity the past couple of days.  I can mark it on your map if you want, get a new horse ready…”

“North, you said?”  Bull asked, waiting for Harding to nod before shaking his own head.  “It’ll be easier for me to track them myself.”

Harding frowned as Bull turned and made his way towards the edge of camp, eventually following behind when Bull sat down and started stripping off his boots and socks.  “Be careful, Bull.  Part of that activity has been an influx of Venatori, far more than we usually see gathered.”

“Not going to matter how many of them there are if they’re the ones that took Dorian,” Bull snarled, arching a brow at the scout as he moved his hands to his belt.

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Harding muttered, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she spun away from Bull.  “I’ll just…uhm…put your stuff in the Inquisitor’s tent.”

“Thanks, Lace,” Bull whispered, removing his eyepatch last and tucking it into his boots where it was unlikely to get lost.  The wolf within snarled at him to hurry up, the beast never understood why Bull bothered with the eyepatch anyway, it didn’t bother the wolf for people to see he was missing an eye.

It was an old disagreement, one Bull had no intention of being pulled into now.  Not when he was so close to finding Dorian.  Focusing on his shift, Bull winced slightly at the initial pull, his bones and muscles changing form in the blink of an eye, his sense of smell heightening along with his hearing while his vision took on that peculiar blue overcast he’d long since grown accustomed to.  He preferred the sensory change moving this way rather than shifting back to Qunari, when it felt like his senses had been stripped from him.  Now, even the sand beneath his feet felt different, the pads of his paws picking up each grain as it shifted under him.

The wind shifted, carrying with it the Boss’s scent and reminding Bull he had more important things to do.  Tipping his head back, he howled low and mournful, the cry of loss and the promise of retribution, before setting off in the direction he was sure the Boss had gone.

It only took a couple of hours to catch up with them, their horses hobbled in a shallow ravine while the Boss, Cassandra and Varric lay on a rocky outcropping surveying the Venatori camp.  Padding up quietly behind them, Bull stopped suddenly when Varric spun, Bianca at the ready, bolt in place.  Frozen, the moment stretched out as Bull tried to remember if Varric had ever seen his wolf form and whether shifting would help or hurt at this point only to have the Boss lean over and swat at Varric’s leg.

“Figured you’d be along sooner or later,” she greeted Bull, motioning for him to move closer.

“Tiny?” Varric muttered, scowling over Cassandra when the warrior snorted.  “Shit, how was I supposed to know?”

Cassandra just shook her head and turned her attention back to the camp below, leaving Bull to follow suit as he slunk forward until he could see the camp laid out in front of him.  Several fires burned brightly, tents surrounding most of them meaning they were looking at a sizable force, far more than the four of them were prepared to handle.  Whining softly in frustration, Bull prepared to back up when he was stilled by the Boss’s hand on his shoulder, her other hand pointing towards the cliff wall on the far side of the camp.

“You can’t see it now but there’s a cave in the cliff face, we’ve been watching it since sundown and so far it’s only the Venatori that have gone in or out.  We’re thinking that’s probably where they’re holding Dorian.  We were just trying to decide what the best way…Bull!  Damn it... _Bull._ ”

He felt no guilt for ignoring the Boss’s call.  Fact was, there was no way the four of them could storm the camp without ending up dead or captured themselves and that wasn’t an option for the Boss.  If he went in alone though, he might just have a chance to at least get close enough to the cave to determine if Dorian was indeed inside.

Slinking closer to the hastily erected fence that surrounded the camp, Bull looked for a way through the perimeter, having to bite back a happy yip when he found a gap where the fence dropped into a dry river bed that he could squeeze through.  Once on the other side, Bull kept his eye out for guards, trying to avoid any confrontation with Red Templars as he crept steadily closer to the cliff wall.

He was still several hundred yards away when he caught the first hint of Dorian’s scent, the fresh, rain-soaked forest smell so contradictory to the dry desert air that it almost made Bull miss the pair of Red Templars that were walking towards him.  Luckily, they were paying even less attention to their surroundings than he was, occupied in a conversation amongst themselves about what the arrival of the new Venatori meant for camp and why they hadn’t gotten in a new squad of Templars who might have actually been of some use.

Crouching behind some low brush, Bull waited until the pair had moved out of hearing distance before resuming his path towards where the cave was now visible, a dark stain against the side of the cliff.  Bull’s muscles tightened the closer he got, Dorian’s scent growing stronger even as the smell of other vampires began to overpower it.

Creeping closer, Bull took one more cautious look towards the assortment of tents but found no one paying any attention to what was happening in the cave and allowed himself to slink around the corner into a tunnel lit only by a few torches.  Padding quietly into the mountain, his hackles rose as the thick, metallic scent of blood began to mingle with the other smells.

Glancing quickly into a small room on his right, he saw a handful of cots spread out along the walls of the room, all empty and he quickly slipped into the room as he heard voices headed his way.

“You really should temper yourself, Lerato,” Bull heard a woman chide her companion.  “What if you’d killed him?”

“You always were a bleeding heart, Aleda,” a man, Lerato Bull assumed, responded.  “I’ve had a week to learn his limits and trust me, we need to get much closer to them if…”

The man broke off as Bull’s loud growl echoed down the tunnel, but before either of them could let out a scream Bull had leapt, his teeth sinking into the tender skin of the man’s throat, jaw clenching as Bull shook his head and snapped the bastard’s spine before tossing him aside and turning towards the woman.

Apparently the smarter of the two, Bull could feel the magic leeching from her, a barrier no doubt thrown up before she began running for the entrance to the cave.  Hugging the walls of the tunnel to avoid any possible runes, Bull raced after her, far quicker on four feet than she could ever dream to be on two.  He leapt, knocking her to the ground before she made it halfway down the tunnel, he was already imagining the richness of her blood when she rolled, the flash of silver in her hand shining in the torchlight his only warning before she stabbed out at him.

Twisting at the last moment, Bull felt the blade nick his shoulder before he pounced again, hind legs tearing at her soft belly as his jaws clamped down on the hand wielding the dagger.  Biting hard, he heard her bones snap, her anguished cry echoing down the hall.  The threat to Bull’s stealth that had him shifting, his Qunari form easily pinning the woman down as he slapped one huge hand over her mouth and grabbed for her dagger with his other.  It took only seconds to slice through her throat, her eyes glossing over as he stood and hefted her body onto his shoulders, kicking at the dirt in the tunnel to distribute the blood that had fallen.  He carried first her body then the man’s into the first room he’d found, dumping their bodies on cots and covering them with blankets before shifting back into wolf form and padding forward once more.

Bull found three more Venatori mages in the next room sleeping and he quickly tore out their throats where they lay before moving forward towards where the tunnel widened into a larger cavern, the area far more brightly lit and positively drenched in Dorian’s scent.  Pausing at the entrance to the room, Bull had to bite back a low growl when he finally caught sight of his mate, hanging limply from a set of iron shackles that had been bolted to the rock wall using only a short length of chain.

Dorian had been stripped down to a pair of tattered linen pants, his torso mottled with dark bruises and stained with blood from a number of precisely carved lines racing down the mage’s sides.  The fact that the cuts hadn’t healed yet meant that they were fresh, most probably the reason for the female mage’s earlier concern and Bull found himself wishing he could go back in time and tear both their throats out again...this time far more slowly and painfully.

Muscles quivering with the need to race to Dorian, Bull forced himself to move cautiously least he fuck this up at the last moment.  Winding his way through the mess of crates and tables that occupied the space he was about to step out from under one of the tables when a quiet sigh off to Bull’s left broke the silence in the room.  Changing his path, Bull slunk forward slowly until he could see a single rogue hiding in the shadows of a small alcove, his head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.

Unfortunately, Bull was out of hiding spaces, leaving ten feet of open ground between he and the rogue.  Moving slowly and silently, Bull never took his eye off the rogue as he padded ever closer, managing to cut the distance between them in half before some sixth sense had the rogue lifting his head.

Bull gave the man credit, there was no panicked cry or hesitation as the rogue plucked a pair of throwing knives from his belt and flung them at Bull, the first missing him by inches even as the second struck true, sinking deep into Bull’s left flank and making the leap Bull had been tensing for fall an awkward foot short.

By the time Bull landed the rogue was moving too, his dagger digging deep enough into Bull’s shoulder that he heard the tip scrape bone before the rogue ripped it out and spun away from Bull’s snapping jaws.  The pair circled each other warily, the rogue attempting to draw more blood, Bull’s teeth making sure he failed.  Snarling, Bull lunged forward, snapping at the man’s leg in hope of driving him to the ground only to be forced back by the rapid slash of his blade.

They were evenly matched, far too much so for Bull’s comfort when inevitably someone would come to check on the rogue.  He needed an element of surprise, he needed…with a feral growl, Bull lunged at the man again, this time shifting as he went, his heavy muscled body sliding beneath the dagger the rogue had swiped at a height that would have caught his wolf mid-chest.  Before the man could adapt Bull curled his hands around the rogue’s ankles, twisting him off his feet and driving the air from the man’s lungs as he slammed to the ground.

Even winded, the rogue held onto his dagger, slashing at Bull’s arm in vain as Bull’s hand pinned both wrists to the ground then shifted his weight, driving his knees into the man’s wrists to keep them still while freeing his hands to cup around the side of the rogue’s skull.  One sharp twist and, with a deep snap, the man’s spine was severed, his body going lax beneath Bull.

Springing to his feet with a low growl, Bull stayed crouched over his fallen opponent as he scanned the room for any other Venatori.  When his search came up empty, Bull hurried the final few feet to Dorian’s side, his head dropping to Dorian’s chest where he held his own breath until he felt the familiar rise and fall of the vampire breathing.

Fingers reaching for the shackles and finding them locked, Bull lost several moments searching the rogue for the key before realizing they’d likely be on the first mage he’d killed, the one that had bragged about torturing Dorian.  Abandoning the rogue, Bull raced to the mage’s body and finally found the key tucked into a small pouch on his belt.

Hurrying back to Dorian’s side, Bull sank to his knees and unlocked the shackle at Dorian’s ankle, the true depth of his injuries only becoming apparent once the shackle was freed and he could see Dorian’s burnt and bloodied skin.  Frowning over what would cause such a wound, Bull bit back a fresh surge of anger at Dorian’s captors and hurriedly freed his second leg.

Concern over the fact that Dorian hadn’t roused at all made Bull rush even more as he straightened and wrapped one arm around Dorian’s waist, holding the mage up as gently as possible as he went about unlocking the shackle at his wrist with one hand before changing his grip around so he could free Dorian’s last limb.

Instinct to put as much distance between this place and his mate warred with the need to make certain Dorian survived the journey.  In the end, caution won and Bull sank to the ground where he stood, cradling Dorian in his lap as he willed his fangs to descend so that he could tear into his wrist.  Memory had him tipping Dorian’s head back, fingers prying apart his jaw so that he could make certain the blood hit the vampire’s tongue.

Unlike the day on the terrace, it took only a moment for Dorian’s instincts to kick in, his fangs sinking into Bull’s wrist as a low moan formed in his throat.  “Shhhhh, Dorian, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” Bull whispered soothingly into the vampire’s ear before breathing deeply, his eyes falling shut as he allowed his frayed nerves to settle.

It seemed like only moments before Dorian stirred in his arms, the vampire’s own hand coming up to curl around Bull’s forearm as his fangs pulled free of Bull’s skin, Dorian’s tongue darting out to lick at Bull’s ravaged skin before placing a kiss to the raised marks of his fangs.  “You know, one could believe this is becoming a habit,” Dorian drawled, attempting to rise only to have his legs fail him and end up back in Bull’s lap.

“You ending up in my lap?” Bull chuckled against the vampire’s ear, earning him Dorian’s hand waving in his face.

“You saving my life,” Dorian grumbled, twisting so he could look Bull in the eye.  “Not to say that I’m not grateful, mind you.”

“Well, as far as habits go, I’ve had worse,” Bull grinned, darting in to steal a quick kiss from Dorian’s lips before asking, “You going to be able to walk out of here?”

“You going to carry me if I can't?” Dorian teased, only to end up squawking when Bull surged to his feet with Dorian still cradled in his arms.  “Kaffas, you fool, put me down,” Dorian hissed, slapping at Bull’s shoulder.  “Do I look like a blushing bride to you?”

Bull tilted his arms tipping Dorian back so he could get a good look at his face.  “Well, you having the blushing part down.”

Dorian scowled and slapped at Bull’s shoulder again.  “Damn it, Bull, I can't cast like this…”

Growling softly at the thought of Dorian being in danger again, Bull was forced to accept the wisdom of his words and reluctantly set the vampire down, waiting until he seemed steady on his feet before releasing him.  “There are some staves you might find agreeable in the rooms ahead,” Bull growled, a blood-thirsty grin curling his lips.  “The original owners won’t be needing them anymore.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Dorian grinned back, the flash of fang a reminder to Bull that his lover didn’t require a weapon to be dangerous.  Arching one brow, Dorian took a long, slow look down and back up Bull’s naked body, his grin turning decidedly wicked as he whispered, “Might they have pants for you also or am I to be blessed with this view for the rest of the night?”

Bull snorted and shook his head before shifting into his wolf form, sitting at Dorian’s side and staring up at him with a toothy grin.  

“Practical but far less...inspiring,” Dorian pouted, his hand dropping to stroke through the thick fur on the back of Bull’s neck as they headed towards the rooms where Bull had left the first of his victims.  


	12. A Pack To Call Home

Dorian knew who it was coming up the stairs even without seeing them, the subtle creak of Bull’s brace rubbing against his boot when he climbed each step now a familiar end to each of his days in the library.  They had been back in Skyhold for almost a month now, long enough that Dorian fully expected to hear from Evie any day about where their next mission would take them.  Surprisingly, he found himself hoping it wouldn’t be anywhere near the Hissing Wastes.  Despite the area’s blessed warmth he found he’d had his fill of the place for the moment.

“Hey, Dorian, you ready to go?”

Swallowing a grin, Dorian closed the book he’d been studying and laid it to the side before looking up to find Bull leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.  “Oh, is it that time already?”

“I can come back later...,” Bull smirked, pushing off the wall and taking a step back down the stairs.

“No, no, I’m ready,” Dorian insisted, standing and taking the time to stretch slowly before moving towards Bull, who was by now shaking his head.

“You are more contrary than a cat,” Bull muttered when Dorian got close enough that he could snag him around the waist, ignoring Dorian’s startled gasp as he was pulled tight to Bull’s chest, and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“And you smell of wet dog,” Dorian chided the moment Bull lifted his head.

“You love it,” Bull chuckled, pulling Dorian up for one more kiss before releasing him so they could make their way down the stairs.

This too was becoming familiar, the lighthearted sniping back and forth that neither of them actually meant but they both enjoyed.  Dorian knew it was foolish to be this happy over a…well, whatever it was that he and Bull had, but still he found himself looking forward to the end of every day.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Bull grinned, nudging at Dorian’s side as they walked past the Chantry gardens.

“I’m fairly certain you’d be overpaying.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Bull chuckled, his hand slipping down to palm Dorian’s ass when he walked ahead of Bull through the arched doorway leading to Dorian’s room.

Dorian debated the potential for embarrassment if he admitted the truth, taking several steps in silence before finally trusting his instincts.  “Honestly, I was thinking about how happy I am to see you at the end of the day.”

He glanced back in time to see Bull’s smile broaden, Dorian’s own chest feeling decidedly light as Bull reached for his hand and kept it.  Letting himself savor the silence for a moment, Dorian waited until they reached his room to tease, “So, don’t tell me being sappy is all it took to break you.”

Bull chuckled, his deep laugh echoing through the room as he followed Dorian in, waiting by the door until Dorian set the candles aflame.  “No, not broken.  Just thinking that now might be the time to talk about something.”

Dorian froze, his hand still stretched out towards the fireplace, the ball of flame he’d conjured clinging to the tips of his fingers.  Kaffas, he should have known better, why in Andraste’s sacred ass had he thought being honest was a good…

“Dorian, hey, Dorian, it’s ok.”

Bull’s words slowly sank in and with a shake of his head, Dorian flicked the ball of flame towards the waiting wood, letting his arm drop to his side and spinning to face Bull.  Forcing a smile to his lips that he didn’t feel, he took cold comfort in the fact his voice didn’t shake when he spoke.  “What?  Oh, of course it is.  Now, what was it you wanted to say?”

“Dorian,” Bull whispered sadly, his expression saying he saw everything Dorian was trying to hide.  “I swear it’s…”

“Fine.  Yes, so you’ve said,” Dorian bit out, stepping past Bull towards the nightstand on what was quickly becoming his side of the bed.  Funny, he’d never had a…thing with anyone last long enough to establish sides.  A little smirk curled his lips as he reached for the small cabinet door and pulled it open, already anticipating the bottle he knew would be inside.  Bull still had issues with watching Dorian feed, perhaps just the threat would be enough…

“Dorian, please, listen to me…”

He knew Bull was speaking but all Dorian could think was that the cabinet  was empty.  He was quite certain he had left a bottle in the cabinet as usual and it was gone.  Scowl deepening, Dorian straightened and made his way towards the battered trunk that sat in the corner of the room.  Throwing open the trunk lid, Dorian gasped when he found the blankets that normally covered the bottled blood lying folded neatly at the bottom of the empty trunk.  Sinking to his knees, Dorian distractedly pulled out the blanket even though he knew there could be nothing beneath it.

It made no sense, they were there yesterday, he was sure of it.  Who would…

Bull’s hands curled around Dorian’s shoulders, pulling him to his feet.  “Dorian…”

“They’re gone, they’re all _gone_ ,” Dorian muttered, more to himself than to Bull, his eyes finally meeting Bull’s for only a moment before the Qunari looked away.

“Yeah, about that…”

His pack, perhaps he had left some in his pack, Dorian realized, pulling away from Bull and heading towards the corner of the room he typically left his mission pack in as he distractedly asked, “About what?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Bull continued, his tone hesitant enough that it would have had Dorian arching a brow at him had Dorian not been preoccupied with finding his blasted blood supply.

Dropping to his knees, Dorian’s hope of finding at least one bottle intact was quickly squashed as he discarded a spare set of robes and a warm cloak from the top of his pack, leaving only a couple of mana potions rattling around the bottom of it.  “Vishante kaffas,” Dorian growled, slamming the pack back to the ground as he surged to his feet.  The tinkling sound of broken glass told him he didn’t need to worry about those mana potions any longer.

“I got rid of your blood.”

Dorian froze, a shiver coursing down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room and everything to do with the six words now incessantly repeating in his mind.   _I got rid of your blood._  Not really any way to misinterpret that.  Guess he wouldn’t be needing to pick a side of the bed after all.  “Get out.”

_“Dorian…”_

No one who had just stripped Dorian of his ability to feel the sun against his skin should be allowed to sound so damn distraught.  Clenching his hands to contain the flames that threatened to burst into existence, Dorian spun on his heel and snarled at the huge Qunari.  “I said get out.”

Bull hung his head, but made no move towards the door.  “I can explanation…”

Dorian exploded into motion like a cork freed from a bottle, his long steps eating up the scant floor space in the room, forcing him to pace back and forth from wall to wall.  His words, when they came, were almost as quick.  “Have you lost your mind?  What exactly is there to explain?  I _need_ that blood.  It’s not a pastime or a nasty habit, I _cannot function_ as a member of the Inquisition without it and you knew that.  You _knew_ and you took it anyway…”  

Dorian’s footsteps faltered as a distressing thought occurred to him.  “Fasta vass was this the plan all along?  To...to lull me into a false sense of…”

“I love you.”

The words hung there, spoken without reason or inflection and Dorian froze again for the second time in almost as many minutes.  His eyes flinty as turned them to Bull.  “Just what game are you playing?”

Even as pissed as Dorian was, there was no mistaking the flush on Bull’s cheeks nor the way he nervously reached for his horn, twisting his hand along the length of it as his head dropped then rose so he could look Dorian in the eye again.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Bull admitted, the words pulling a shocked gasp out of Dorian.

Dropping his hand from his horn, Bull took a step closer.  “Shit, I don’t mean…I’m not apologizing for loving you Dorian, just for springing it on you like that.  But, damn it, you’re gorgeous when you’re mad, your skin all flushed and your eyes sparkling, magic so thick in the air I can almost taste it and…” Bull broke off with a little growl, swiping his hand over his face and drawing in a deep breath before continuing, “Crap, I’m fucking this up.”

Dorian laughed.  He shouldn’t have and he was still pissed but he couldn’t help it.  He wasn’t certain he’d ever seen the self-assured Qunari ever look so damn discomposed.  Dorian supposed it said something bad about him that he found pleasure in Bull’s discomfort.  But damn it, the man _had_ demolished his blood supply.

“Oh no, this I have to hear,” Dorian drawled with a wave of his hand to continue, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms expectantly.

Impossible as it seemed, Bull’s blush darkened, his cheeks turning almost purple even as his eye narrowed.  “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.”

“Oh I do, I really do,” Dorian chuckled, letting his head drop back to rest against the wall.

A little growl broke free from Bull, quickly swallowed as the larger man moved to stand right in front of Dorian.  “You’re an asshole…and I love you,” Bull shrugged, ducking his head a little and reaching for one of Dorian’s hands, cradling it between his own huge palms like it was something infinitely precious.  Raising his head again, Bull admitted, “And it kills me to watch you drink that fucking tal-vashoth blood when I wish it was mine.”

Dorian just blinked up at the were, unable to believe he’d just heard what he was almost certain he’d heard.  “But you’re always so uncomfortable when I feed…”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Dorian.  I’m jealous as fuck,” Bull grumbled, his fingers tightening around Dorian’s hand.  “I can’t help it.  I sit and watch you drink that blood and all I can think is that it should be me you’re feeding from.  That I should be the one to take care of your needs, not some faceless tal-vashoth you have to pay for his blood.”

“So destroying my supply…”

Bull’s free hand swiped nervously down his face, his lips curling in a wry grin.  “Yeah, not exactly my proudest moment but it makes my wolf crazy, having to watch our mate take comfort from someone else.”

Dorian was quite certain his eyes goggled and it took him a couple of attempts to choke out, “Your _what_?”

Damn, and there went that blush again, riding high on Bull’s cheeks even as he grinned broadly.  “You heard me right,” Bull whispered, lowering his head until he could rest his forehead against Dorian’s.  “I love you Dorian Pavus, and I want you as my mate.”

Dorian’s heart leapt for the brief moment before his mind reminded him of just what was at risk if he agreed.  For Dorian the change would be minor, once bound to Bull he would feed from only Bull for the rest of his life.  Still, that was a choice, if pressed he could feed from another, but for Bull, a were mated for life.  And while being bound to Dorian would extend Bull’s lifetime to match Dorian’s own, should Dorian be killed Bull would soon follow.

Shaking his head, Dorian pulled away from Bull, putting some distance between them before settling on the edge of the bed.  “Bull, you can’t mean that…we’re at war and you’ve already seen what my people think of me fighting on the Inquisition’s side.  I won’t let you…”

“It would happen anyway,” Bull stated baldly, shrugging when Dorian turned startled eyes to him.  “I’ve lost my pack before and barely survived it.  The wolf has already chosen you, Dorian. If something were to happen to you there would be nothing left for me except avenging you.”

“Bull…”  Dorian wasn’t certain if he meant the word as a plea or an apology.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Bull whispered as he closed the distance between them.  “I know you weren’t expecting any of this. If it’s not what you want just say the word, you can have my blood until you can get in touch with… _him_.”

Dorian snorted, a smile starting to curl the corners of his mouth.  Fasta vass, but he loved this insane man--a man who was jealous of a merchant Dorian couldn’t even be bothered to remember the first name of--a man who destroyed his blood supply in a fit of jealousy only to offer to replace it if that was Dorian’s preference, who was willing to chance linking his life to Dorian’s in the middle of a war.

“…I mean you don’t have to feed from me, I’m sure we can bottle it unless…”

“ _Bull,_ ” Dorian growled, reaching out to capture one of Bull’s hands and use it to tug the larger man closer until Bull stood between Dorian’s legs, his anxious face staring down at Dorian.  “My answer is yes.”

Dorian was worried that perhaps he’d lapsed into Tevene when Bull just continued staring at him for several long moments, his brow creased in a frown.  “What did you say?” Bull finally whispered.

Dorian’s grin broadened.  “I believe that I said yes.”

Bull’s remained still, blinking twice before a slow grin began, his smile growing until Dorian could swear it was bright enough to rival the sun.  “Yeah?”

Dorian shrugged.  “You know, on second thought…”

Dorian broke off with a surprised yelp when Bull reached down and scooped him up, tossing him further onto the bed as though he weighed nothing before following himself, Bull’s large, muscular frame pinning him to the bed.  Laughing he, shoved at Bull’s shoulder.  “Let me up you oaf!”

Instead, Bull hand came up to cup Dorian’s cheek, his expression impossibly fond as he lowered his head and placed a chaste kiss against first one side of Dorian’s mouth and then the other, his breath hot against Dorian’s lips.  “Mine.”

Dorian would deny melting at that one reverently whispered word, though a little sigh did escape him just before Bull finally kissed him fully, the were’s tongue slipping into Dorian’s mouth as though it belonged there.  The familiar taste of vanilla and those tart little oranges they used to get at home in the summer months pulling another little sigh from Dorian.  

 _Home_.  Funny, Dorian couldn’t remember when the word and Bull had started to be synonymous but it seems they had.  

A Tevinter vampire making a Qunari wolf pack his home...he supposed stranger things had happened.


End file.
